


I Won't Fear The Fall

by Namarie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-21 08:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4822145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the times to find out who your Soulmate is, right after they've gone on the run has to be one of the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will include minor spoilers from promos/sneak peeks of season 3.
> 
> Also, it is *not* part of the Bloodlines series, though that doesn't mean more of that series is not coming. (It is!)  
> I just thought we needed a soulmate AU for the Keenler ship. Hope it doesn't disappoint! It's a little bit of my own take on the idea.
> 
> Finally, I don't own either this show or its characters.

~~  
There was a pain growing just over Donald Ressler's heart, and he was pretty sure it was yet more evidence that the universe hated him. There was no other way to explain it – to explain this amazingly bad timing.

It was about a week since the flashes of pain on the skin over his heart had began to happen, every now and then. And it had been exactly a week since the task force that he was now in charge of had lost track of Elizabeth Keen. Former Special Agent Keen, formerly partner to Donald Ressler, and, he was now all but certain, his Soulmate.

Like he needed the physical pain of the Mark forming over his heart, on top of the heartache he was already dealing with. And once the Mark fully appeared, it wouldn't be long before he had to deal with even more unpleasantness. The universe had to hate him. And it had to hate her, too, he supposed – but he didn't like to think about what all this was doing to her. He tried not to imagine it, in fact.

Don got out of bed that morning with a grimace. The skin over his heart hurt almost constantly now. The words of his Mark had to be just about visible – or they would be by the end of the day. He'd thought maybe he would be one of the relatively rare people who went through life without a Soulmate. After all, he and Audrey had been happy together before her death, and they'd complemented each other well. And he and Liz had been partners for years with no sign of this thing developing. But that was how it often worked. You could be friends with your Soulmate for a number of years before the bond made itself known.

With a mixture of dread and curiosity, Don shuffled into his bathroom and turned on the light over the mirror. He slipped off his T-shirt. Yes, there was something visible over his heart now. It wasn't clear yet, but it looked like it might end up being two words. He wondered what they would be. Off the top of his head, he couldn't think of two words from Liz that were that deeply significant to him, to them. But then, no one had ever accused him of being overly sentimental.

Sentimental or not, though, he couldn't help wondering what words or word of his would appear over Liz's heart, wherever she was. Sighing, Ressler turned away from the mirror and made himself focus on getting ready for work.

During another day of fruitless searching through tips and rumors, Ressler managed to ignore the constant ache of the Mark, like the skin was burnt. He did his best not to be distracted, too, when he felt brief flashes of emotions that weren't his own. That only happened a couple of times, thankfully. Once, it was a wave of irritation that wasn't warranted by the concise, accurate report from the agents who had gone to follow up another lead that hadn't panned out. The other time, it was amusement. At least that made him smile for a few seconds before he figured out what was going on. He didn't know what he was going to do when he started getting windows into what Liz was feeling all the time. If he felt when she was scared – or hell, if she got hurt... He swallowed. That would incapacitate him. And it worked both ways. So now he had added motivation not to do anything too reckless.

When he got back to his apartment at the end of the day and looked in the mirror, the words had in fact resolved into visibility. He took a sharp breath, as he was suddenly back in their shared office, after the Scimitar had attacked, used, and tried to kill them both. He could hear himself trying to lighten Liz's mood when she told him she'd thought they were going to lose him, quipping, “The prospect of having to live without me must have been terrifying.”

She didn't smile. Her voice was totally sincere as she said, “It was.”

The memory faded, and now he was leaning his hands on the counter, looking at those two words in her handwriting over his heart. He stood up straight and traced the letters with the fingers of his right hand. The skin didn't feel any different to the touch. But those words – that whole exchange – they were even more meaningful now. Now that either of them living without the other was a practical impossibility in the long term.

Ressler slept very poorly that night – worse than he had slept for the past week. His brief, interrupted snatches of sleep were full of dreams of Liz. Some of them were memories, some were nightmares, and some were just mundane scenes of them together. But none of it was restful. And when he got out of bed half an hour before his alarm the next morning, it was with a heavy, sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse.

After all, he reflected blearily, as he headed for the shower, now it was confirmed beyond any doubt that he was hunting his Soulmate. She was well out of reach – he knew that deep in his bones now, too – and, worst of all, she needed to stay that way. If he found her, that would mean her arrest, at best, and her imprisonment in some unnamed facility at worst. Continued separation, in either case. If the Cabal decided his life wasn't important (which was likely), they could even kill her, and that would almost be preferable for them both. He doubted those people would conform to the normal visitation rules for Soulmate pairs when one was in prison.

Really, though, he had to keep the identity of his Soulmate secret for as long as possible. These people, inhumane as they obviously were, would definitely not hesitate to use him to get to her as soon as they knew. But no matter how strong he was, eventually the Soul Sickness would make it obvious he was one side of a separated pair. There was no way around it that he knew of.

His best hope, Don thought, with an almost-smile at the irony, was probably Reddington. When the man saw what was happening to Liz and figured out who she was pining for, he'd have to do something to save her. The fact that it would also save her Soulmate would be a nice side effect. Don would have to try to come up with some way to aid this effort – hopefully before he became too Soul Sick to be of use to anyone. At least they should still have some time before that point.

~~  
Tokyo  
That same day (plus thirteen hours)

She wasn't going to be able to keep hiding this from Red for much longer. The ache above her heart was constant now, and strong enough that she was sure she wasn't going to sleep at all tonight. Plus, there was the suspense of wondering what words would be appearing on her skin there next morning.

They were in the elevator, on their way back to the suite they were sharing, when Liz finally couldn't keep herself from wincing. She didn't move other than that, but Red still saw. “What is it, Lizzie? You've been quiet all day, and now you seem like you're in pain.”

“It's-- not a big deal,” she tried, with a smile and a shrug. “Just a headache.”

He was obviously not convinced. “All right,” he said, looking at her closely. “Let me know if it develops into anything worse.”

“I will.”

They said goodnight as they went to their respective rooms. As soon as her door was closed, Liz sank onto her bed with a sigh. She would have to tell him soon. This was something that would affect them both, after all – not to mention Ressler.

As if the thought of him had triggered it, Liz got a flash of frustrated anger that she knew had to be from her Soulmate. She looked at the bedside clock. He was probably at work right now. At work, where his job was to track her down. And her current goal was to stay ahead of him and anyone else trying to find her and Red. She huffed out a breath and sat up to take off her shoes. She was exhausted, so she might as well try to sleep, even if she was pretty sure it wouldn't work.

The night passed about as miserably as she'd thought it would. It probably didn't help that she was thirteen hours ahead of her Soulmate; they wouldn't even be trying to sleep at the same time. She had short bursts of sleep as she tossed and turned, but those moments were full of nightmares about Ressler in danger, or just painful dreams of times when they were together.

When she got up at a little after six, she decided she might as well take a look and see what her Mark said. It had to be there by now. The light in the bathroom revealed writing over her heart. As soon as she saw the single word itself, she gasped.

She was on her knees in front of the Box. Garrick's gun was pointed at her head, and Reddington had just hurriedly, brutally brought Ressler back to consciousness. She hadn't known until moments ago just how badly injured Ressler was, but now she couldn't look away from his terribly pale face, and all the blood on the floor around him. His blood.

Reddington was demanding the code to open the Box. She heard her partner ask Red if he was going to kill him now. It was even clearer now than it had been in the moment, somehow, that although Ressler believed Reddington's words, it wasn't the threat of his own death that finally made him speak. It was the threat of hers. “Agent Keen will die,” Reddington said, as he held Ressler up so that he could see her.

“Romeo,” he said at last. “The access code is Romeo.”

Liz came back to the present with a jolt, staggering and grabbing onto the counter. There it was, as if written by his hand, on her heart. She smiled sadly. It looked like a stereotypical romantic reference, but it was anything but stereotypical. And now, of course, it was even more true that either of the two of them would do anything to keep the other safe.

Liz took a quick shower and got dressed before she went out to the main room of the suite. Red would already be there, she knew, and she would need to tell him. She just wasn't totally sure how.

“Good morning, Lizzie,” he said, looking up from the dining room table. “How did you sleep?”

“Not very well,” she answered. She was wearing a tank top that was fairly low-cut, in the hopes that he would see the part of her Mark that was visible. That, she hoped, would mean she had to speak less. If she had to tell him all of it, she was sure she would end up in tears.

And when she sat down across from him, she did in fact hear him take a sharp breath. “Lizzie. Forgive me for seeming improper, but I believe that writing there-” he pointed for a moment, “is new, isn't it?”

Nodding, Liz stared at the table. “Just since this morning.”

“I see. And what does it say?” His voice was soft.

Despite her efforts, her voice came out choked. “Romeo.”

“Oh, Lizzie,” he said, standing up and going around to her side of the table. He would know what that referenced immediately, of course. Her control was crumbling, and she allowed him to pull her into his arms. “I'm sorry,” he told her, again and again as she cried. When she finally got herself back under control, he sighed and held her for a moment longer. “Well. This is certainly not what we'd call good timing, is it?”

Liz scoffed, grabbing a napkin to wipe her face. “No, it really isn't.”

They both sat back down. Silently, Red poured a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, and offered it to her. She nodded, and he pushed it closer.

After she had drunk most of the cup, he spoke again. “This is going to require a great deal of thought and planning, Lizzie. When this becomes more widely known, which it very likely will, our enemies won't hesitate to use it against you, and against Donald.”

“I know,” she said, and shivered. She had read enough horror stories, in her college classes and elsewhere, of what enforced separation could do to a pair. And the Cabal would be merciless.

“This means we must first find a way to bring your Soulmate somewhere further away from prying eyes, and then keep the two of you together from there.” Red smiled for a moment. “I don't imagine it will be hard to convince him of the benefits of this idea.”

Liz's own heart leaped at the thought. Then she frowned. “But … that means he'll have to be on the run, too.”

“It's not a perfect solution,” he acknowledged, “but it will give us the chance to keep you both alive and healthy. And besides, if it comes down to it, no legitimate court will prosecute you or Donald for anything you did to stay together. That, in turn, merely adds to our motivation to take down the Cabal.”

“So that we can make sure we don't have to worry about a court that's under their control,” Liz finished with a nod.

“Exactly.” Red looked her over, then, in obvious concern. “But first things first. We need to get your Soulmate to you, before either of you fall dangerously ill.”

Liz blinked. “But we do have some time there.” When he didn't reply, she cleared her throat and stared at her coffee cup. “We were just friends. Partners. We never...”

Red cocked an eyebrow and opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but she glared at him, and he changed his mind. “In that case, yes, we do have some time – but still not more than a few weeks.”

“Yeah.” Liz took a deep breath. She hadn't really been looking for a chance to find a Soulmate, but here it was, anyway. And if she allowed herself to admit it, she was glad that it was Ressler. At least, she would be once they were together again.

~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Mack_the_Spoon for her beta, and thanks to all those who left kudos and comments!

~~  
A week passed after his Mark appeared – a slow, dull, frustrating week. The only hints the task force found about Reddington and Keen were vague ones, and not very current; there was a suggestion they had been in Japan a week ago, but of course all indications were that they weren't there any longer. It was all nauseatingly similar to Ressler's hunt for Reddington all those years ago. Except, of course, there was the added huge frustration of being apart from Liz.

The Soul Sickness hadn't started yet. It wouldn't have, since their bond had not progressed beyond close friendship before they were separated. But Ressler did dream about her every night, and he woke up unsatisfied and not at all rested. It was starting to show in his ability to stay focused and in control at work. That was even aside from the occasional interruptions when he felt something Liz was feeling.

That Wednesday, the day before the week anniversary of his Soul Mark's appearance, Aram was in Don's office, reporting on his efforts to track some of the money going into Reddington's organization. Don was doing his best to pay attention. This was important. And based on Aram's attitude, this wasn't just another dead end, either; they might have something here.

Just as Aram was about to get to the main point of his report – the destination of the money trail he had found – Don felt a sensation like a sharp blow to the back of his head. He made a sound of surprise and pain, and collapsed out of his chair onto the floor.

“Agent Ressler! Director!”

He could hear Aram's frantic shouts, but he couldn't seem to move. Nor could he see all that well. Everything blurred and darkened around him. Then suddenly it was back to normal, and he found himself sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Aram and Samar were crouched in front of him. The door to his office was closed.

“Ressler? Are you back with us?”

Ressler blinked. It was Samar who had asked. His head still ached, but when he reached up to touch it, there was no blood and he didn't even feel a bruise. “What the hell...?”

“You-- you sort of screamed, and then fell out of your chair,” Aram said. He still looked worried.

“I did?” He was breathing heavily, he noticed, and something felt wrong. Very wrong. But he couldn't pinpoint what, other than the faint lingering headache.

Samar put her hand on Aram's shoulder, and the two exchanged glances. Then she turned to Ressler again. “Don,” she said, and her voice was compassionate, “how long have you known you have a Soulmate?”

Why was she asking that right now? “I've been … pretty sure … for two weeks now,” he said. He shut his eyes. What the hell was going on? His eyes snapped open again as the obvious answer came to him. Liz. Something was wrong with Liz.

“Do you know who she is?” Aram asked.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. Don struggled to his feet, accepting his friends' assistance as he then swayed and almost fell over. “She's in trouble. Something … something happened.”

“That much is obvious,” said Samar, worry and amusement clear on her face. “You should sit down, Don.”

“But I need to...” He trailed off with a sigh. There wasn't anything he could do. Liz was probably on the other side of the world right now. Unconscious, and in danger. He sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. He was shaking. This feeling, like there was a weight on his chest – that was his body's response to his Soulmate's distress. And there was nothing he could do for her.

“Hey.” Aram was standing right next to him, based on the sound of his voice. “You know, you can tell us who she is if you want. We'll keep your secret.”

Don didn't look up. “I can't-- I can't help her. I need to help her.”

The pair were silent for a moment, and then Samar said, “Maybe it would be helpful for you to describe everything you're feeling, so we all know as much as possible about what's going on at least.”

The immediate, extreme reaction seemed to be fading. At least her situation must not be getting worse, he thought with a tiny bit of relief. “She's unconscious,” he said, looking up but not meeting either of their eyes. “But I think she's okay other than that.”

“Good.” Samar sounded compassionate again as she went on, “Tell me if I'm crazy, but my guess would be that Aram and I know your Soulmate. That she's this task force's current main objective.”

Ressler froze. He wanted to deny it, but then again, Aram and Samar knew him well enough to know there was no other woman in his life. He didn't have time for anyone outside of work. So he just nodded. “You're not crazy.”

“Wow,” said Aram, with feeling. “Um. Well. That sucks. I mean, not that it doesn't make sense, you two, I mean – and not that she's not-- I just--”

“I know what you meant,” Ressler cut in, rescuing the other agent before he could get any more flustered. He rubbed his hands over his face. “It's just really, incredibly bad timing.”

When he finally looked at the two of them, Don saw that they were both looking at him with identical expressions of worry. He swallowed and tried to wave his hand dismissively. “Look, there's-- there's nothing any of us can do about it right now, okay? Nothing except our jobs.” They seemed to accept this, albeit reluctantly. “So, uh, Aram, where were you before I interrupted your report?”

After Aram finished giving his report, Don thanked them both, and then looked down at his desk again. “Um. Both of you. Before you go, I need to ask--”

“We aren't going to tell anyone,” Samar said.

“But you can talk to us, if-- if you need someone to talk to,” added Aram.

“Thanks.” They had to know there was really only one person he wanted to talk to about this, but he appreciated the offer, anyway.

Somehow, Ressler made it through the workday with the knowledge of Liz's peril hanging over his head. Her condition didn't change, as far as he could tell. However, just as he had gotten into his car to leave for the day, he felt a jolt of terror from her, sharp and powerful. Gasping, Don gripped the steering wheel. It was a good thing he hadn't started driving yet.

For the next unknown amount of time, Don stayed where he was, only partially aware of his surroundings as he experienced what his Soulmate was experiencing. She was terrified for a while. He was dimly aware that his panting, desperate breaths matched hers, though of course their bond had not yet reached the point where he could actually see what she was seeing. He wasn't sure whether he would have preferred that or not; it was terrible not to know what was happening to her, yes, but even if he did know, he would still be just as helpless to stop it.

Finally, as he had been dreading, her fear increased again, and this was followed by feelings of exposure and helplessness. Don could guess at what kinds of things were happening now, and white hot rage surged through him. “No!” He needed to go to her – he had to help – this wasn't fair!

But just when he was about to throw open the car door (and do what, exactly, he couldn't have said), her terror spiked again and then was replaced by profound relief. Don exhaled. She was being rescued. Reddington, maybe. He waited a few more seconds, but the relief didn't change. The connection faded back to its normal levels.

Hands shaking again, but this time with the release of his intolerable anxiety, Don took out his phone and texted Aram and Samar. 'She's fine now,' was all he said. A second later, he had glad responses from both of them.

When he got home, Don went straight for the fridge and pulled out a beer. He badly needed to relax – as much as was possible, anyway. But he was only halfway through the bottle when his phone rang. His phone, which he had left on the kitchen counter.

Cursing, he stood up and went back to the kitchen. He felt unsteadier than he usually did after only half a bottle, but at least he didn't fall over. The number on the screen was unfamiliar. “Donald Ressler,” he said shortly, once he'd answered.

“Donald,” said a voice he hadn't been expecting in the least. “I thought you might appreciate a call after this morning's events. Though I suppose it was evening for you.”

At this, Ressler very nearly did fall over on his way back to the couch. “Reddington! What the hell-- What happened to Liz? Is she okay?”

“She's fine, Donald,” the man said soothingly. “She's asleep now, or I would put her on the phone. But don't tell me you don't know she's all right.”

“I know she's not terrified or in pain anymore,” Ressler replied with a shuddering breath. “That's all.”

“Yes.” Reddington took a shaky breath of his own. “I'm sure you gathered that she was kidnapped. But my people found her and retrieved her before her kidnappers were able to do more than threaten her with torture.”

“I got that much, too,” said Don, his voice hoarse. He tried not to think about what it would have been like to be … 'spectator' wasn't even quite the right word, but anyway, what it would have been like to be here, helpless, while his Soulmate was tortured.

“Well, I believe it's up to Elizabeth to decide how much of the details she wants shared,” he went on. “So perhaps you can wait to ask her yourself.”

Don stood up from the couch again. “What?” His heart started to pound.

“Oh, don't sound so surprised, Donald,” the man chuckled. “Did you not think Lizzie and I would be planning a way to get you two together?”

Ignoring this, Don just asked, “What can I do to help?” He knew he was talking about giving up his job, his badge – but then he would be with Liz. That was the most important thing.

“Just be ready to get out of the city when you get word.”

“Get word how?” Don gripped the phone. The thought of being with Liz soon... The anticipation was so strong that it hurt.

“You'll know,” was all Reddington said. “And I'm afraid I can't tell you when, only that it will be as soon as we can make it.”

He tried to breathe normally. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I'll be ready.”

“I know you will.” Reddington was about to hang up, but then there was a voice in the background – a voice that Ressler would have recognized anywhere. “Hold on a moment, Donald.”

A few seconds and some rustling sounds later, she spoke. “Ressler.”

All of the tension seemed to flow out of him. He leaned back against the couch cushions as a smile spread over his face. “Liz. It's-- it's really good to hear your voice.”

He heard her sigh. “Yours, too.”

“Are you all right?”

“Mostly,” she answered after a pause. “A few bruises, and, um, some stuff that's not going to be fun to work through, but I'll be all right.” Then she laughed once, without much humor. “Relatively speaking, anyway. You know neither of us is really going to be okay until...”

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Until we're together. I know.”

There was a lot more that both of them could have said, but Liz was interrupted then by Reddington. Don couldn't hear what he was saying, but Liz sighed again and said, “Red says we need to cut this short for now, and he's right. I'm sorry.”

“Hey, don't apologize,” Don said quickly. “We got to talk. I-- I don't know about you, but I needed that.”

“I did, too. Definitely.” He could hear her smile. “Good night, Ressler.”

“Good night, Liz.”

Ressler slept better that night than he had in a while. It wasn't a night free of dreams of Liz, but at least none of them were nightmares.

~  
Two days later, Don was on his way out of the bank during his lunch break when someone brushed past him roughly, nearly knocking him into the doorframe. Don was about to protest when the guy turned and winked before continuing on.

Don took a few steps toward the parking lot, then reached into his front pocket. Yes, there was something there: a small square of paper. He waited until he was back at his car to look at it. All there was on the paper was an address that he knew to be located on the northern outskirts of town, and a date and time: tomorrow, at 7:30 pm.

Ressler grinned, knowing Liz would feel his excitement and relief, and that she would very likely guess the cause. Tomorrow, he would be on his way to her. That was enough of a goal that he knew he would make it until then.

He got to his apartment building and headed inside. Just then, his own level of longing and impatience suddenly increased. There was homesickness and loss mixed in. Ressler stopped walking, leaning on the railing for support. He wondered what had triggered these strong feelings in her at this moment – feelings that he couldn't begrudge her at all. No doubt she missed a lot of things and places, not just him.

Ressler didn't notice the glint of the lens in the upper window of the building opposite his apartment.

Somehow, he made it through what he supposed would be his last day of work the next day without making it too obvious that he was counting down the hours. There was nothing new in the way of intel, though Aram's money trail tracking had allowed the Bureau to discover some names of suppliers in Reddington's network. Don expected these people wouldn't give much in the way of useful information once they were brought in, but it would end up being a minor inconvenience to the man. He also expected that Reddington wouldn't take offense in the least that the task force had done this to him. Business was business.

Don debated for a while whether or not he should tell Samar and Aram anything of his plans. He trusted them, but he also didn't want them to be implicated in any way, or targeted by the Cabal when they found out. In the end, he decided the most he could do would be to text them before he got rid of his phone. He hoped they would understand.

As soon as he got home, Ressler looked around his apartment, trying to be objective. He couldn't bring much of this with him; he didn't want to look like he was leaving on a long trip, and besides, he could bet Reddington would help him and Liz get set up wherever they ended up stopping first. He still had about two hours before the scheduled time, and it would take forty-five minutes to get there. That didn't leave a whole lot of time, but it would be enough.

Not too much time later, Ressler strode purposefully out of his apartment building, carrying a computer bag that had no computer in it. Instead, it had a change of clothes, his badge (just in case it was useful), and a few keepsakes. He felt oddly light as he went to his car. Maybe at some point in the future he would miss his life here. For now, though, all that mattered was Liz.

Before he started the car, he sent Aram and Samar a text that read, 'I'll tell her you send your greetings.' Then he smiled faintly, imagining their reaction, and took the battery out of the phone.

~


	3. Chapter 3

~~  
Lisbon  
The same time (plus five hours)

Liz gave up on her book and went to stand at the window. She knew there was no point; Ressler was still across an ocean from her, and there was still half an hour before he would even meet Red's contact. But even though it was after midnight, there was no chance she would sleep. At least not until she knew he was on the way. Besides, she could feel his anticipation on top of her own. There was no way she was going to be sleepy.

“It won't be too much longer now,” Red said, coming into the room and standing just inside the doorway. She turned to look at him. He was smiling at her fondly. “I'd tell you to try to relax, but I know how little good that would do.”

As she had repeatedly since her Soulmate bond had been revealed, Liz wondered at Red's total lack of bitterness in his interactions surrounding this topic. She knew his Soulmate had been taken from him decades ago, but it wasn't like that was a loss anyone would ever completely recover from. Most people didn't recover at all, and the few that did usually didn't last very long. And yet here he was, happy for her, no trace of what would be very understandable grief on his face.

“Red,” she said, and then stopped. She wasn't sure how to even bring this up. But it was important.

He cocked his head when she didn't go on right away. “What is it, Lizzie?”

“I just...” She crossed the room to stand close to him, and looked into his face. “I don't want to hurt you by … by having Ressler here with me.”

His eyes widened for a moment, and then softened as he took her hand. “You won't.”

“But it's-- it'll be a constant reminder of--”

“Of what I've lost?” At her nod, Red sighed and turned his gaze toward the window, though he didn't let go of her hand. “Lizzie, while it's true that you and your Soulmate will bring many things to mind more vividly for me than I have … chosen to remember in many years, please believe me when I say your happiness matters a great deal more to me than any discomfort that might result.”

She shook her head. It didn't seem fair at all. And she still had only a few more hints as to _why_ this should be true for him.

“Thank you, though,” he said, after a long pause, looking at her again with a small smile.

“For what?”

“For considering … that issue.” He squeezed her hand lightly, and then released it. “I appreciate that you even thought about it, especially with your own impending reunion on your mind.”

She smiled, hesitant, and nodded.

Red opened his mouth to say something else, perhaps change the subject, but Liz didn't hear him speak. She gasped and stumbled, and would have fallen if Red hadn't caught her and taken her to the couch. “Ressler!”

“What is it, Lizzie?” His voice was urgent. “What's happening to Ressler?”

Liz tried to breathe. “I-- I think someone just ran him off the road,” she said. Then she flinched and tried to pull away, even though part of her knew Red was only holding her hand to offer support. “No! No, they're taking him-- he's hurt-- I can't!”

“How badly hurt?” His voice remained level, though she knew he was alarmed as well.

It was like there was a weight crushing her chest. “Barely conscious. He hit his head.” Then she gasped again, as she felt a muted version of the additional blow Ressler had just received. “Now he's unconscious,” she panted. “They knocked him out.” She couldn't breathe. This was the kind of thing she had been most afraid of, and now it was happening.

“Lizzie,” Red said, sharper now. When she focused on him, she saw that he was crouched in front of her, his expression grave. “Lizzie, we're going to find him. I'll contact the men I had watching him. But in the meantime, at least we can be fairly sure his attackers want him alive. Right?”

She shook her head, swallowing back a wave of nausea. “If it's the Cabal who has him, and they-- they know he's my Soulmate,” she gasped out, “then why shouldn't they just k-- kill him?” It was difficult to even say the words. She was crying, although she hadn't noticed when she started.

Red sat down next to her and once again pulled her close, into his arms. “I know this won't be pleasant to hear in this context,” he said, “but if they were going to simply kill him, they would have done so already. And you know that they haven't.”

It was true. She knew with absolute certainty that her Soulmate was alive. She took a few deep breaths. “All right. Then … what are they going to do?”

Red sighed, and stroked her hair. “Of course we can't know for sure unless they attempt to communicate with us, but I have a theory.”

Liz pulled away, wiping away her tears and looking him in the eye. “What?” When he didn't answer right away, she raised her voice. “Tell me, Red!”

“I believe these people will simply wait for the Soul Sickness to begin,” he said, sounding as if each word hurt him. “They want me as well as you, and they trust that I will act to save your life, if not Donald's directly.”

Another wave of nausea hit her. Liz covered her mouth and focused on breathing steadily. “But they have to know that you know I'll be in danger if you try to bring me to Ressler, anyway, since they have him. They'll try to take you and me out together.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But perhaps they think I'd try to reunite you and Donald anyway, rather than watch you die Soul Sick." His eyes were dark. “If that is what they're thinking, they have a point.”

There was nothing she could say to that. Everyone knew that dying essentially of long-term separation from your Soulmate was the worst possible way to die. Anyone with a scrap of humanity wouldn't wish it on their worst enemy. Recorded cases of death by Soul Sickness were low, and thus there wasn't even enough data to have established a length of time that it took. It was probably safe to say it varied, based on how long each member of the Soulmate bond in question was able to withstand it.

Red stood up then. “I'm going to make some calls, Lizzie,” he said. "My people in the DC area will start to move on this right away, and then we will, too.”

Lizzie nodded but didn't move. She stayed where she was, dazed, while Red came in and out of the room, sometimes on the phone and sometimes speaking with other people. She didn't pay much attention. She was too busy doing her best to focus on the sensation of Ressler. He was still unconscious. This terrible, heavy feeling of suspense must have been how he'd felt when she had been taken. But the people who had kidnapped her didn't know anything about her Soulmate or even that she had one – or at least they hadn't until just before Red arrived. Somehow, she was sure this wasn't the case for Ressler.

~~  
When Ressler came to, he discovered immediately that he had a pounding headache. Another concussion, he thought dully, before he even opened his eyes. Beyond that, he was aware he was lying on what felt like a concrete floor – and he was cold. He grimaced and tried to open his eyes.

There was a rustling sound that he just barely heard over the pounding in his head. “I see you're awake at last. Tell me, how long has it been since you last saw your Soulmate, Agent Ressler?”

With a jolt of fear, Ressler opened his eyes. He was, in fact, lying on the floor of what seemed to be a cell. The reason for how cold he was became obvious when he noticed that he had been stripped of his shirt, shoes, and socks – though none of the rest of his clothing had been removed.

Don's gaze traveled to the man who had spoken. He was sitting in a wooden chair outside the floor to ceiling bars of the cell. Don didn't think he'd ever seen him before. He blinked.

The tall, dark-skinned man leaned forward, pointing at the Mark on Ressler's heart. “I bet there's a touching story there,” he said with a smile. “Between you and the former Agent Keen, that is.”

Ressler tried desperately not to react, even as his heart plummeted. They knew. Whoever this guy was, he knew – and he had to be just one part of a large force. The hit on his car had been organized far too well. “What do you want?” he asked, deciding to stay where he was since he knew sitting up would worsen his headache.

The man's smile didn't fade. “The people I work for want Elizabeth Keen and Raymond Reddington, Agent Ressler,” he said. “Imagine their delight when their surveillance revealed that Keen's former partner had a new Soulmate – and that there were no other viable candidates for this person's identity but her.”

This was it. This was what he had feared the most. This had to be the Cabal. At least Liz would know what had happened to him, and if she knew, Reddington knew. Reddington could keep her away.

“If my associates' calculations are right,” the tall man in the chair continued, “you and Keen have been separated for close to a month now, most of which time was after the bond formed.” He folded his hands and smiled again, a much colder smile than before. “So I guess we won't have too long to wait – especially since it looks like from what was in your car with you that you were, hmm, maybe planning a little trip? To get to her, perhaps?”

At that, Don couldn't keep himself from reacting, just a little. He had been so close. And now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure Reddington would keep Liz away from him. After all, the man cared about Liz, for whatever reason, and that was fairly common knowledge by now. The Cabal would expect - with good reason - that Red would not want to watch Liz die slowly in agony. And of course Ressler didn't want that, either. In summary, he couldn't think of a worse situation.

“Well, I'll leave you for now,” he said, when Don stayed silent. “Get some sleep. You have a long couple of weeks ahead of you. Or maybe not so long, depending.”

He must have slept some, even in the midst of being cold, in pain, and afraid, because the sound of approaching footsteps woke him up some time later. Ressler sat up quickly, wincing at the stiffness and soreness throughout his body, and put his back against the far wall. His head still hurt, but the change in position didn't affect it quite as much as he thought it might. That was something.

The man from before opened the cell door and tossed in a shirt. “Here. Don't want you to catch a cold before the fever sets in.” Then with a chuckle at his own wit, he left as quickly as he'd showed up.

Ressler decided he didn't want to risk standing up. He crawled forward and picked up the T-shirt, relieved when he could do so with a minimum increase in pain. Then he went back to his previous spot against the wall, put it on, and sat back with a sigh. The only way he was going to get through this was to keep the goal in mind – staying alive and looking for a way out of here – while taking each moment as it came. Liz, he was sure, would be strong for as long as possible. He couldn't give in to despair. That would be condemning both of them, which he refused to do.

There was just one thing wrong with this idea, he thought hours later. He had recovered enough to explore every inch of his cell, and had checked the door repeatedly to make sure there were no structural weaknesses. The problem was, he was pretty sure there was no way out of here. There was a security camera facing his cell in the hall outside it. When he looked down the hall as far as he could from inside the cell, he could see a heavy door with a guard just visible through the window. There was no other way to exit the hallway.

Sighing, Don sat down in the far corner of the cell again. Well. If there was no way out that he could see, then he would have to focus on the other part of his goal, instead: staying alive. He had a bad feeling that this would end up being hard enough on its own, even if his captors never laid a hand on him.

~


	4. Chapter 4

~~  
It took two weeks from the day Lizzie's Soul Mark appeared for the Soul Sickness to begin. This coincided with the fifth day of her Soulmate's captivity.

Red guessed what had happened right away when she didn't come out of her room in the early morning to ask about the latest update on finding Ressler. She didn't sleep in anymore – she barely slept at all since he had gone missing – so it was with a heavy heart that Red went to knock on her bedroom door.

“Lizzie? May I come in?” He didn't really expect an answer, and he didn't get one. He opened the door to reveal Lizzie sprawled on her bed, on top of the sheets, not moving other than the shivers he could see from here.

“Lizzie?” he called again, a little softer, and moved closer. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair hung in damp clumps over her face. “Lizzie, can you hear me?”

When he sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes finally, slowly opened. “Red,” she said, swallowing and then wincing. “I feel awful. We both do.”

“Oh, Lizzie,” he breathed, sweeping the hair off her face with a gentle hand, “I'm so sorry.” They hadn't yet isolated her Soulmate's location, though they were getting closer. He bitterly resented every day that went by now without finding Donald, and now that this next phase had started, he knew his guilt over Lizzie's suffering would increase exponentially from this point. Despite all of his resources, Donald remained hidden and in the Cabal's clutches. But that was going to change soon. It had to.

She took a few seconds, and then asked the question he knew she would ask. “Any news?”

“We've narrowed down the search area some more,” he told her, trying to smile. “And you said he hasn't been moved, so that means some progress.”

“Not enough, though. Right?” Lizzie didn't wait for his reply before starting to get up. With his help, leaning on his arm, she managed to make it to a sitting position. Still, he thought it would be risky for her to stand up. “I want to take a shower,” she said. There was a slight defiant edge to her raspy voice, as if she had heard that thought and was daring him to tell her she couldn't do it.

But Red just nodded. “If you'll wait a moment, I'll bring Mr. Kaplan here. She'll give you some medicine to treat some of your symptoms, and then you can go from there.”

She sighed and stared at the floor. “Fine. I guess. But I'm pretty sure they're not going to give him any medicine.”

Red could easily picture what was being done to Donald: mostly neglect, he theorized. There was no need for the Cabal to do much torturing when his Soul Sickness would do their work for them. He had genuinely respected and even liked the man for quite a while now, so it was hard to think of him in this situation. It wasn't like he had the choice to pretend not to think about Donald's health, though, since it affected Lizzie so directly. “Think of it this way,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “If you feel better after what Mr. Kaplan does for you, he'll feel a bit better, as well.”

“That's true,” she said, giving him a grateful look. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

Red waited in the sitting room. Once Mr. Kaplan had seen to Lizzie, she came out to speak to him. “Well,” she said, sitting down across from Red with a sigh, “I've done what I can. Her fever and aches will probably respond well to the extra strength Tylenol for a few days – until they don't. You can try the prescription painkillers after that, but I can't say I'm sure they'll be effective.”

“I understand.” He rubbed his hands over his face. The fact that all they could do for Lizzie was, in bluntest terms, try to make her more comfortable was not something he wanted to acknowledge, even to himself. But the fact was, she was suffering from what would end up being a fatal illness if she and her Soulmate were not reunited soon. No amount of palliatives would change that.

“She's not going to be able to look after herself once the Soul Sickness really takes hold,” Kate said then, her tone as gentle as he had ever heard it. “She'll need constant care.”

Thinking of his Lizzie like that made him clench his fists. But he made himself nod and say, “Whatever she needs, she'll have it – while we search for what and who is really necessary here.”

“Good.” The woman stood up then, to lay a hand on his arm. “Remember, Raymond: she's a fighter, and she'll fight this for as long as she can. And as long as we find him before it's absolutely too late, this is all reversible.”

“Thank you.” He covered her hand with his for a moment. Of course she was right. They couldn't give up hope yet. There was no way he would allow her Soul Mark to become a prophetic reference to Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers.

~~  
The same day (five hours earlier)

It was easy to pinpoint when the Soul Sickness finally hit. Don woke up from an uneasy doze with the awareness that he was warm – much warmer than his surroundings warranted. Sweating, in fact. And there was a heavy, pervasive ache throughout his body. He groaned and rolled from his side onto his back. None of the discomfort was relieved.

She was in pain, too, he found out quickly. She was only half-awake (he had no idea what time it was here, much less where she was, since there were no windows nearby), but she was miserable. And of course they both could feel how much being without the other was growing more and more unbearable.

It wasn't exactly a surprise to discover that reading and hearing about Soul Sickness was nothing in comparison to living it. Sure, it was true that the first symptoms were fever, aches, and chills, like the flu or some other viral illness. But beyond that, Ressler was pretty sure it was not something you could understand if you didn't have a Soulmate, or if you had one but had never experienced separation from them. He guessed this would be especially true as the illness progressed.

Not too much later that day, the smiling, cold-eyed guy who had first spoken to Ressler and who seemed to be in charge came in and stood gloating in front of Ressler's cell. “Well. That sure didn't take too long. My bosses will be glad to hear how you're progressing.”

Ressler pulled himself painfully into a sitting position against the back wall. “They're not going to do it,” he stated. God, that pathetic amount of effort had just about winded him. “They're not going to put themselves in reach of your bosses.”

“I suppose you can keep telling yourself that, Agent Ressler,” the man replied, his expression skeptical, “but I don't believe you. And I don't believe you actually want that, deep down. I mean, I have a Soulmate. I can imagine what you're going through.” Then he smiled. “That's why I'm pretty sure this is going to work just the way I want it to work. Reddington's not going to let this--” he pointed at Ressler in a general fashion-- “happen to Keen for too long. And this place is just hard enough to find that he'll be getting desperate soon enough.”

There was nothing he could say to that. But just as he was trying once again not to despair, there was a small but noticeable decrease in his physical pain. He sighed and shut his eyes for a moment. Of course. Liz was being tended to. Like this guy had just pointed out, she was with people who cared about her welfare.

“I'm sure we'll talk more later,” said his captor. “Unless you have anything else you want to say right now? Like any hints to where your Soulmate might be? We're willing to end this sooner rather than making you suffer for longer, of course.”

When Ressler said nothing, the man nodded. “Well, doesn't matter. Longer it is.” He left.

The relief from Liz's treatment lasted through his next meal, delivered as usual by his guard. After that day, though, even the medicine she must have been given regularly began to have less and less of an effect. The Soul Sickness was just too strong – and getting stronger.

The latest development, beyond the increasing weakness and deep muscle ache, was that he could no longer really taste anything he ate. Of course, it wasn't like his guards gave him gourmet meals anyway, but even the bare-bones fare he was provided now had no flavor at all. It was fitting, he supposed. Life was dull and deeply unsatisfying without his Soulmate, too.

Several days passed like this. The only mercy during this time was that he was left alone, for the most part, aside from when his meals were delivered. Sometimes he wasn't sure this was a mercy, though. Being alone meant there was nothing to distract him from how he felt. The physical symptoms were terrible, definitely. But the worst part was that, waking or sleeping, his thoughts were occupied constantly with Liz, while knowing that she remained out of reach.

The cell door was opening. Don was aware of this fact, but beyond opening his eyes, there wasn't much else he could do. He had lost all track of time, but he did know he had been Soul Sick for days now. His whole body hurt, he shivered constantly, and his longing to be with Liz was stronger than ever. It was like withdrawal, but a million times worse.

“Doing well this morning, I see.”

He was still aware enough to hate that voice, though, and the man who spoke as well. Solomon, Ressler had heard him addressed as once. Ressler turned his head just enough to glare at the man standing over him.

“And still holding onto that temper, too.” Solomon (Ressler didn't know if it was a first or last name) smiled. “That's good. We need you to stick around a little longer, if possible – until you do your job and lure your slippery little Soulmate and her patron out into the open.”

Ressler hated himself, too, for how much he wanted that. He needed to see her, touch her, hear her voice – but he knew the only way that would happen was if she and Reddington were captured – no, they probably wouldn't even stay alive long enough for that to be accurate – by these people. Plus, even beyond that unavoidable truth, he couldn't bear the fact that his captivity and agony were causing her own pain to be worse. Everything in him wanted to bring her relief. He didn't blame himself for this addition to her suffering, though. He knew who was really at fault.

“Your food's being delivered in a few minutes,” Solomon said, again seeming unperturbed by a lack of response from his prisoner. He turned to go, but Ressler cleared his throat, and his captor turned back around.

“I'm going to kill you.” His voice came out raspy and not very audible.

Solomon bent down a bit closer. “What was that?”

Ressler looked him in the eye. “I said, when I get out of here, I'm going to kill you.”

The man just shook his head, almost pitying. “Somehow I doubt that, Agent Ressler.” Then he kicked his prisoner in the gut, sending him sprawling. Don had no strength to resist, and in his current condition the blow seemed to reverberate all through him. He would have cried out in pain, but he couldn't seem to take a breath.

By the time he'd gathered himself as much as he could, Solomon was gone. But now he felt strange – different than he had been feeling, though of course the pain was still there. It was like he wasn't alone in his head... And there was really only one person for whom it made even the slightest bit of sense that she would be there with him. It didn't feel like an intrusion. How was this possible?

“Liz,” he whispered, doing his best to reach out to her mentally as he lay on the floor.

It was definitely her. It felt like her, in a way he couldn't have described. She returned the gesture of reaching out that he'd made, and Ressler shut his eyes. It wasn't real physical contact, but it was so much better than anything he'd had in … far too long. Though it did also mean he could sense her misery more strongly than he had been sensing it. He swallowed.

She didn't want to linger on that, he could tell. She couldn't speak to him, exactly, but they could still sort of communicate. She wanted to know something – something she was sure he could tell her. Or show her?

He frowned and opened his eyes. He wasn't sure it was such a good idea to give her clues to where he was, considering their enemies' plans … but the other option wasn't really better. So after another few seconds of indecision, he struggled upright, leaning against the back wall of the cell, and tried to see if there was anything useful to be seen. It wasn't much, but he supposed it was better than nothing.

It was exceptionally weird to know that his Soulmate was looking out of his eyes right now. He wondered if he could do the same. And after a moment of trying, his vision blurred, and shifted suddenly. He wasn't in a cell now. He was in a bedroom, nicely furnished, with someone seated in the chair near the bed. Reddington. The man was watching him closely. When Ressler's eyes met his, he spoke, but Ressler couldn't hear what he was saying. Ressler shook his head. This was--

The cell door opened with a clang, and abruptly, Ressler was back where he was supposed to be. A guard he'd seen a few times before was coming in to deliver his meal. Liz wasn't there anymore. If she had really been there at all. He hadn't heard of this kind of thing being possible for Soulmates in their position. Soulmates who had fully bonded could see out of each other's eyes, yes, but he had never heard of it happening before that stage, and he'd never heard of being able to actually feel like you were where your Soulmate was.

“Breakfast,” announced the man, setting it on the ground in front of Don. He stepped back to the entrance of the cell. From past experience, Don knew he would stand and wait, hand at his hip holster, while the prisoner ate.

Very slowly, with great effort, Don moved forward and picked up the bowl of hot cereal. His shaking hands spilled some of it on the way back to his seat against the wall, but he kept enough that he was moderately full when he had finished it. At least he hadn't burned himself on the hot food. For the moment he also still had enough strength left to feed himself. He sort of hoped he'd have entered the not-really-conscious stage by the time that was no longer true.

Sometime later, he was brought out of a doze by the sensation that Liz was back. If this was just a hallucination, Ressler didn't mind much, he decided; it was just so good to have any kind of contact at all with her.

It seemed like she agreed. Neither of them tried to communicate much for the next while. It was enough just to spend this time together – well, sort of together, anyway.

There was a point later when Don suddenly felt like he was losing this ephemeral contact with his Soulmate. His eyes shot open, and he tried to reach out in his mind for her again, desperation making it more of a lunge than a reach. He felt her surprise for a moment. Then his surroundings blurred again, and he was back in the room he'd found himself in before. The bed he was lying on should have been much more comfortable than the concrete floor of his cell, but because he knew where he really was, that wasn't the case. Or he thought he knew where he was.

And then for several seconds, it was like he was lost – like either place was equally likely to be his actual location. He could see out of the eyes of the person in the cell, alone and neglected on the cold floor, and also out of the eyes of the person on the bed, who knew they were surrounded by people who worried, cared, and yet could do nothing to really help.

Just as he was about to start panicking, he felt a mental nudge, and sighed in relief. She was there. Somehow, she was there in either place. It didn't have to matter so much, maybe. He closed his eyes again.

He drifted, slightly less miserable, for another unknown amount of time. Then all of a sudden it came over him, what Liz must have done. She had noticed his disorientation, and done her best to use it to ease his symptoms. Which had to mean she was now taking on more than her share of them.

As soon as he realized this, Ressler tried to pull himself back fully to where he belonged. She protested, without words, but that wasn't enough that she was able to stop him. He understood that she didn't want him to suffer, but his desire not to increase her suffering was just as strong. He rolled onto his side on the hard floor of his cell and tried to sleep.

~~  
Liz sighed in mingled frustration and anger. He was so stubborn. Not that she didn't get the idea of protecting your Soulmate; of course she did. That was the whole point of what she had tried to do for him. But he wasn't going to let her do it anymore, even though he knew she was very willing.

“Lizzie?”

Red's voice brought her out of her head and back into more complete awareness. It was still hard to really focus on him, but she tried to do so anyway. “Red,” she said, blinking and pushing her hair out of her eyes as she sat up against her pillows. “He's being so stubborn. He's always so stubborn.”

Red's forehead creased. “Who is, Lizzie? If it's Donald you're talking about, I know he's obstinate, but--”

“I was trying to help him,” she explained, obediently taking the glass of water he handed her and drinking several sips. She set it down on the bedside table. Her hands shook and her movements were a little clumsy, but she didn't spill very much of it this time. “But he wouldn't let me.”

She didn't understand why this should be confusing to Red, but apparently it was. “How were you trying to help him? You know he's still very far away, don't you?”

“Of course he is,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But he-- we found each other...” Okay, maybe this was a little hard to explain, at least. It would have been easier if her fever wasn't so high, probably. “We found each other,” she tried again, “and then I could tell how much pain he was in, but there was a way I could help.”

Red was quiet for a few seconds. Then he nodded slowly. “All right. So you're saying you're able to contact Donald mentally?”

It was Liz's turn to frown and consider this. “I guess so, yes.”

“Have you learned anything we could use to help locate him?”

This was important. Liz shut her eyes for just a moment, concentrating on what she had seen through his eyes. “He's … in a cell. No windows. Nothing visible in the hall outside the bars. It's not too dark, though. There must be a decent number of lights.”

“That's good, Lizzie,” he said, leaning closer. “Anything else?”

“It's not too hard to reach him,” she told Red, after another minute of thought. “So I think he must not be as far away as he used to be.”

Red said something in a satisfied tone about this fitting in with what they had thought already when they decided to move to this current location, but Liz missed it. A particularly strong spasm of pain shook her just then, and she groaned. Then she curled in on herself and squeezed her eyes shut.

She heard him say her name softly, compassionately, and then there was a cool cloth on her forehead. It felt wonderful. She sighed. At least she could still help Ressler a little bit by allowing herself to be helped. It wasn't good enough, obviously, but it was something.

~


	5. Chapter 5

~~  
Two days later, the situation had become critical. Lizzie was no longer truly conscious, and therefore didn't respond to any attempts to speak to her. Whenever she spoke, which was rarely, it was mostly just to say her Soulmate's name. Her fever hovered in the three-digit range all the time. She wasn't eating even close to enough. Even when Red or Mr. Kaplan sat with her and did their best to feed her, she rarely cooperated beyond taking just a few bites. It wouldn't be too long, Mr. Kaplan informed Red, until she would have to have a feeding tube inserted. They had her on an IV now, but it couldn't deliver sufficient nutrition on its own.

It was a massive relief when Red's sources finally discovered what they were pretty sure was the location where Donald was being kept. Being one hundred percent certain would have been preferable, naturally, but there was no way to verify safely. To try would risk the Cabal noticing and then deciding to whisk Lizzie's Soulmate away to another hiding place. Their only option was to plan a rescue under the assumption that the man they aimed to rescue was in fact there.

Red wondered whether he had ever had to come up with as complex of a plan in so short a time. Certainly, it had been a while since there was something so precious riding on the success of such a plan. The strategy he developed was twofold: first, Red and his people would attempt to draw the Cabal's attention by setting up what would hopefully look like a secret, clinic-type safehouse, ostensibly for Lizzie, in Donald's general vicinity. In reality, Lizzie would be brought as close to the site of her Soulmate's imprisonment as possible while still keeping her safe. Then, while the Cabal's and especially their Mr. Solomon's attention was on this 'hidden' base, Red and his team would enter the building, find Donald, and ideally get out before their ruse was discovered and reinforcements were called.

The first phase began without any problems. A suitable house was equipped as a below-the-radar clinic that might befit someone in the later stages of Soul Sickness, just ten miles away from Donald's location. Then word was leaked, very discreetly, through channels that Red knew would be watched by his enemies. Now it was time for his even more discreet surveillance team on the target building to inform him if and when his enemies took the bait. Meanwhile, Lizzie was being prepped to be moved as soon as there was reason to do so.

Twelve minutes after the information was leaked, the surveillance team reported movement at the building where Donald was. Red took a breath and turned away from Lizzie's room for a moment. It was time to go. He hated to leave her like this – when it was all too probable that he wouldn't see her alive again – but he had no choice. He went to the bed, bent down, and kissed her flushed forehead. “Not much longer now, Lizzie,” he whispered. She frowned a little and opened her eyes for a moment. As had been the case for the past two days, though, it was clear that she wasn't seeing anything … or at least, not anything in her room.

Three minutes after his surveillance team's report, Red and his team were on the move. Lizzie was in the process of being transported to the spot they had calculated to be as close to her Soulmate as possible while still staying hidden and able to escape, if necessary. Not that she would make it much longer if this went wrong, Red knew. It hurt his stomach to think about it.

Once they arrived on site, they cleared the building without too much trouble. Mr. Solomon was nowhere to be found, which was worrisome knowing how clever he was. Red had expected him to question the safehouse ruse and stay behind. Still, Red wasn't going to complain if none of his men ended up dead or severely injured. And they did have a perimeter set up around the place, so if Solomon did return with backup, they wouldn't be unprepared.

He let Dembe go around the corner of this hallway first, and then followed. This was starting to look like what Lizzie had described, the last time she'd been coherent enough to describe what she had seen. That meant he needed to steel himself. He had been watching Lizzie's decline this whole time, which was terrible enough, observing the changes day by day. He had a feeling the sight of Donald would be more shocking in many ways, since he had not observed the man gradually getting worse.

And, in fact, once Dembe had shot the guard in front of the cell and Red could focus his attention on its occupant, he had to take a sharp breath. The barely-conscious man lying on the floor behind the bars would not have been recognizable as Donald Ressler if they hadn't known it was him.

He was very thin, not particularly clean, his hair was shaggy and unkempt, and it was clear he'd had no opportunity to shave since his arrival here – a state in which Red had never seen him. He was also barefoot and shivering, and didn't react when Dembe found the guard's key and unlocked the door. “Donald,” said Red, going in and crouching down next to him, “can you hear me?”

Donald's eyes drifted open but did not focus. His dry lips formed a single word – a very obvious one – and then he sighed and his eyes closed again.

“We're going to have to carry him,” Red said with a frown. This was not unexpected, but it did mean potential risk, since none of them would have as easy access to their weapons. Dembe just nodded. Between the two of them, they hoisted Lizzie's Soulmate up off the floor, holding his arms over their shoulders, and went back the way they had come.

They had almost made it to the main level when there was the sound of shouts from the other side of the door they were approaching. Griffin radioed in at that moment to say that they were under attack. Quickly, Red caught Dembe's eye. They lowered the unresisting Donald to the floor at the base of the short stairwell, with his back against the wall. Then they went ahead to join the fray.

It seemed that Mr. Solomon had in fact returned with a fair number of men – more than a dozen, at a glance. Red's people were holding their own, fighting back in various clusters around the large main room, but the situation was much more precarious than Red would prefer. He thought of Lizzie, waiting in the guarded, hidden vehicle several blocks away, and clenched his jaw.

Just as their enemies were starting to turn the tide and press in closer on all sides, forcing his people back together and toward the stairwell, more of Red's team poured in from the two main entrances. Some of the combatants fought more desperately at this turn of events, but others tried to flee. “Don't let any of them escape,” Red called out to Griffin and the other leaders, over the chaos filling the main floor. “But make it quick!”

Now that the main crisis was over, they needed to get out of here as quickly as possible, for a number of reasons. Most importantly, they needed to get Donald safely to Lizzie with all speed. If they delayed at all, not only would that be perilous for both members of the Soulmate pair, but it would also mean that the FBI, the remnants of the task force, would have more time to arrive on the scene. Red was sure they had heard about the attack here already. At a nod from Red, Dembe made the call to bring their van around front, and to let Dr. Finn know that his patient was on the way.

Donald looked ever so slightly more alert as they carried him out of the building and toward the car. He still didn't offer either any resistance or help, but his eyes hadn't closed again, either. Dr. Finn came out to aid them in getting the man settled into the car. Then he immediately began a quick examination of his patient.

“He's been Soul Sick for how long now?” the doctor asked, as he shone a penlight into Donald's eyes. Donald blinked and flinched but didn't really pull away. “Eleven days, right?”

“Correct,” Red said. “With little to no care from those who imprisoned him.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Dr. Finn muttered. “Well, considering all that, he's doing all right. Provided he's reunited with his Soulmate on schedule today, he'll recover. And so will she.”

Red let out a breath. He had thought and hoped this would be true, but the confirmation was still excellent to hear. “Good.”

They drove in near silence for a minute. Donald started to tense and lean forward. The closer the car got to Lizzie's location, the more restless Donald became. His eyes were wide now, though still unseeing, and he strained against the seatbelt. “Liz,” he said repeatedly, in tones of increasing desperation. “Liz!”

“Yes, we're almost there, Donald,” Red told him. He met the doctor's eyes and shook his head, as the other man sat next to Donald and held onto his arm. He didn't want to have to have Lizzie's Soulmate sedated before they'd even had a chance to be reunited – but he also didn't want Donald to hurt himself, or hurt anyone else.

Finally, just as Red was considering telling the doctor to go ahead after all, the other car came into view. Before they had even parked, the door to that van opened, and a wild-eyed, unsteady Liz came toward them. Mr. Kaplan and the other woman he'd left with them were trying with some success to hold her back.

“Let him go,” Red said, with a small smile and a pang as he remembered times he had been gone from his Soulmate and then returned. Of course, they had never been separated for so long and so cruelly, until the end.

Dr. Finn released Donald as the car stopped, and undid his seatbelt. As soon as it was possible, Donald threw open the car door and ran toward his Soulmate. Lizzie gave a little cry and met him halfway. Their arms wrapped around each other immediately, and then the two began to sob. Red smiled again, and looked away. The world was just a little bit righter now.

~~  
There had been no relief, nothing but the all-encompassing need to be with her, for too long now. Every moment he was aware of anything beyond this lack of her, Ressler knew he was dying. He was in too much pain for anything else to be true. He just wished there was some way it could happen faster, without the same thing happening to her.

Then suddenly, there was a change. He wasn't where he had been. He wasn't nearly as far away from her as he had been for so long. She was close – but she needed to be closer. He needed to get closer to her. Liz.

There was a hand on his arm, keeping him from moving as much as he needed to. He struggled, but he couldn't fight against it very well. He was so tired. Everything hurt. “Liz!” They were still getting closer, though. That was good.

Finally, _finally_ , they were close enough that he could see her. Everything around her was still blurred and out of focus, but he could see her. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

He was in a car, maybe. It stopped, and Ressler scrambled to open the door, eyes still fixed on his Soulmate. Now she was running toward him, too. Their outstretched hands touched, and he gasped. Warmth flooded him, chasing away the bone-deep ache and chill that had dominated his life for so long. And then she was in his arms, and he was in hers, and nothing else mattered. He had never experienced anything like this relief, this sense of wholeness. Now he understood what it meant to have a Soulmate. He had her now, and she had him, and he knew neither of them ever wanted to let go again.

There were people talking around them, but Don couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was stay here, in Liz's arms. He was crying, he realized. So was she. And he could feel her exhaustion nearly as well as he felt his own. Without speaking, they both sank to their knees, still holding each other as tightly as they could.

“Donald? Lizzie? I do apologize for interrupting.” These words were addressed to them directly. They were probably important, but Don still had trouble focusing on anything but the sensations of being in his Soulmate's arms. “It's only that we need to move to a safe location, ideally within the next few minutes.”

At that, Don took a sharp breath. Yes. There was still the threat of their enemies trying to separate them again. He saw the need to get out of this exposed location – but at the same time, he couldn't bear the idea of releasing his grip on Liz. By the way she tightened her hold on him just fractionally, she felt the same.

Whoever had spoken – Reddington, he thought – sighed then. “I see. This presents some logistical problems, in that case.”

There was more quiet conversation around them after that. Ressler was breathing without sobbing by this point, and so was Liz. Her face was still buried in the crook of his neck. He still had his eyes shut, and his face buried in her hair.

Reddington spoke again. “Donald, do you think you would be able to carry Lizzie for a short distance – to the van that brought her here? We folded down the back seats, so you won't have to be separated while we travel.”

Ressler opened his eyes. It felt like the first time he had been able to see the world around him in a very long time. He hadn't even noticed until now, but Liz had dyed her hair. It was blonde. That probably explained why it had a faintly different scent to it. He tried to focus on Reddington's question, though it was difficult when he was so totally overwhelmed by all the sensations connected with his Soulmate. “Uh,” he said, after thinking about it, “maybe. I-- I don't know.”

“We'll make sure neither of you fall.”

Liz stood up as Ressler did, and neither of them stumbled. Then she pulled away just the smallest amount, so that he could try to lift her into his arms. He succeeded – but almost immediately staggered and felt his muscles warning him that this wasn't going to last long. But Red and Dembe were there, on either side, supporting him and her as he walked as quickly as he could toward the van. And Liz was holding on as tightly as she could, as well.

Just as it felt like his strength was about to give out, they made it to the van. A vaguely familiar older woman opened the side door for them. That was when he and Liz both had a moment of panic. There was no way he could get inside while still holding onto her. It just wasn't going to happen. On the other hand, he was too weak to carry her any longer, anyway. “I'm sorry,” he whispered, looking down at her.

She met his gaze. “We'll hurry.”

He set her down on the running board. With great reluctance, she released him and turned to go into the back of the vehicle. Instantly, he felt bereft, cold, and panicky. Her thoughts were full of the same reaction. He clambered in after her, not at all graceful but quick as he could. She grabbed his hand as soon as it was within reach. As soon as he sat down, she settled herself in his lap. The relief was, once again, profound. Within seconds, they were clinging to each other as closely as possible again. They barely noticed when the doors to the van shut, and it started moving.

“How long until we get there?” Ressler asked her a little bit later. It didn't really matter where 'there' was, now that he knew Liz would be with him.

“I don't know,” she replied. Then she yawned, and reached up to touch his face. “Ugh. Maybe you can get rid of this once we get there, though.” She sounded more amused than actually disgusted, though.

He chuckled. “Believe me, I have no problem with that idea.” He'd never particularly enjoyed kissing a woman while he had any facial hair, much less the unkempt full beard and mustache he had now.

At that, Liz stilled and moved her hand to his collarbone. “Kissing,” she said, in a low voice. “Hmm. If I weren't so tired right now, I don't think I'd mind the beard too much.”

Shivering, he tried and failed to imagine what that was going to be like, now that they were Soulmates. It was enough to make him wish he weren't so drained, too. “I guess we'll have to wait a little longer,” he said, rubbing a hand down her back.

“I guess so,” she agreed. She let out a slow breath. “But now that you're here, waiting won't be so bad.”

They both fell asleep for the rest of the trip, only waking up when the van started down a gravel road.

“Where are we?” Liz asked, loud enough for the others in the van to hear.

“In Pennsylvania,” came the voice of the older woman. “About fifteen minutes over the state line.”

A few seconds went by. “Where's Reddington?” Don asked. He had assumed the man would want to travel with Liz, but this woman was the one answering their questions, so he guessed not.

She sounded faintly amused as she said, “About ten yards behind us.”

Don blinked. He couldn't see much out the back windows from this vantage point, but the woman's words were oddly reassuring. After all, the last time Don remembered interacting with Red, he had technically been his enemy.

They drove down the gravel road for another few minutes before pausing briefly to go through a gate. After that they only had a little bit longer to go before the vehicle came to a stop.

“All right, here we are,” said their guide. “Are you two sufficiently settled such that you can walk into the house only holding hands, or are we still going to have to support Agent Ressler while he carries you, Elizabeth?”

This was said without a trace of judgment, but Ressler was still faintly embarrassed as he shared a look with Liz. It was not a common problem for Soulmates … although that was in the normal course of things, when they weren't kept apart by force for long enough to become so Soul Sick. Her cheeks flushed a little, Liz said, “I think we'll be fine for a short distance, Mr. Kaplan.” Then she lowered her voice. “As long as it is short.”

Ressler agreed, even as he raised an eyebrow. This woman's name was “Mr. Kaplan”?

Liz grinned at his thought. “I still haven't asked,” she whispered.

When they both got unsteadily to their feet outside the van, Ressler thought they might have overestimated their readiness to be almost separated for even a short distance. They were holding hands, yes, but he still felt shaky and cold – not to mention weak as a newborn colt. He concentrated on the feel of his Soulmate's hand in his, barely noticing the uneven ground he walked over in his bare feet, or the size of the house into which they were going. As soon as they were inside, he pulled her closer and put his arm over her shoulders. She wrapped one arm around his back. That was better. He still felt like his being upright was precarious, though.

“Good. It appears you two have survived the trip well,” said Red's voice from the entrance to the house behind them. They turned, and he smiled. “There's no need for any of us to keep you from the sleep you both require any longer. Your room is the second one on the left, down that hall.” He pointed.

“Thank you,” said Liz softly, and it was clear it wasn't just about the room.

Red nodded, his own expression affectionate as he looked not only at Liz, but (to Don's mild surprise) at Don as well. “Sleep well. You'll be safe here for a while.”

Once they were inside their room, Liz shut the door and then enfolded Don in another embrace. They breathed in and out in unison for a few minutes. Then, to his Soulmate's immediate alarm, Don found himself tilting toward the floor as his legs threatened to give out under him. He tried not to pull her down with him. But she insisted on holding on to help him to the bed, where he sat down heavily.

“I'm so sorry, Ressler,” she said in concern, as he leaned against her. “You-- At least I had people looking after me, trying to keep me as comfortable as possible.”

She was stroking her hand through his hair and down his back. It felt like heaven. He sighed into her shoulder. “Doesn't matter now,” he said. “None of that matters anymore.”

“Well, I'm not sure I agree,” she said, “but let's wait until neither of us is falling asleep sitting up to talk about the serious stuff. Hmm?”

Ressler yawned, then blinked slowly and furrowed his brow. There was something he'd wanted to do before going to bed. Oh. That was it. He frowned.

“What?” She was getting a little worried again.

“Nothing. I just... I kind of wanted to shower, but I don't think I can stand up for that long.” He thought about it. “I don't think I can stand up at all right now, actually.”

Resting a hand on his face, she suggested, “Let's just sleep for now.” She tried for a smile. “You don't stink, if you were worried about that.”

“Good.” He supposed he did recall having been basically hosed down at some point after he stopped being able to keep track of time.

Liz bit her lip, perhaps following his train of thought. But then she yawned hugely and pushed on him, urging him not to stay upright. “C'mon. Sleep.”

Ressler allowed himself to fall back onto the bed. With the last traces of wakefulness, he scooted so that his head was on the pillow, then waited for Liz to lie down next to him. Then, once she had tucked herself into his side, he put his arms around her and was fast asleep.

~


	6. Chapter 6

~~  
The two reunited Soulmates slept in each other's embrace for nearly twenty-four hours. He and Kate looked in on them occasionally, but didn't disturb them. “It's my understanding – and Dr. Finn confirmed this before he left – that the physical contact and the rest are more important than other necessities right now,” Mr. Kaplan told him after the first ten hours. “They'll wake up when they're ready.”

Red did his best not to worry about the obvious other needs they had, and instead made sure that this safe house was fully stocked and ready for their recovery. His security team was certain they would be safe here for at least a few weeks. Its isolation meant it wasn't the most convenient place from which to run his business, but Red would make it work for as long as he needed to.

Indeed, late the next morning, Lizzie and Donald emerged from their room looking vastly better than they had the last time Red had seen them awake. Of course they were both still too thin – Donald especially – but there was much less of the desperation that had ruled their interactions at first. And Donald had shaved off the beard and mustache, which certainly made him look more like himself although his hair was still longer than usual.

“Good morning,” he greeted them, having observed all of this in the first few seconds after they came into the kitchen. “You two look much better this morning. I imagine you're ready for some breakfast?”

“Definitely,” said Lizzie, picking up a bagel from the bakery box on the counter, and pouring herself a glass of orange juice as well.

Donald had already unwrapped a chocolate muffin and started to eat it. He didn't speak until he'd swallowed the last mouthful. “Were we asleep for a whole day?”

“Just about,” Red confirmed cheerfully.

He shook his head. “I guess that explains why I feel like I could eat a dozen of these.” He pointed to his discarded wrapper.

“That's not the only reason,” Lizzie said with a frown. She set down the bagel she had just sliced and gestured at his torso. “You can pretty much count all your ribs right now.”

Donald nodded and looked down at himself. Before he or Lizzie had time to be too upset, Red came over and patted the man's shoulder. “Yes, you weren't much of a burden for Dembe and me to carry out of that cell,” he said. “But we'll have you and Lizzie back to fighting form in no time. Eat as much as you want, whenever you want – though I recommend you take it easy on your stomach at first. Maybe don't start with a dozen chocolate muffins, unless you're aiming for a stomachache.”

After a moment, Donald nodded again and grinned. “I'm pretty sure I haven't actively tried to gain weight since I wanted to move up a weight class for high school wrestling.”

Over at the counter, Lizzie stifled a giggle as she put cream cheese on her bagel.

“What?” Donald asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing.” But she smiled again, and looked down at her food. “Just trying to imagine high-school-aged Ressler the wrestler.”

As Red laughed out loud, Donald groaned and shook his head. “Oh, thanks. Thanks for that.”

“Don't tell me none of your classmates ever made that joke,” she said before she took a bite of her breakfast.

“No, they definitely did – which just makes hearing it again now even better.”

Even as he pretended to be highly annoyed with her, Red watched him gravitate toward her, until the two were standing together in the middle of the kitchen. They were now, predictably enough, staring at each other like nothing else in the room existed. With another smile, Red took his cup of coffee out of the room, and left them to each other.

~~  
Liz only realized they'd been staring at each other silently for who knew how long when Ressler reached over and touched the corner of her mouth. “There's some cream cheese,” he said, clearing his throat.

She blinked and inhaled sharply. “Right." She wiped her mouth. "Breakfast. We should...”

“Yeah.”

The two of them sat down at the table after Ressler considered what was available and settled on a bagel for himself – plain, in deference to Red's advice. They ate in silence for a few minutes, both of them genuinely and unsurprisingly hungry. But once they had both finished a large portion of what was in front of them, Ressler spoke up. “So, we haven't really had any time to talk since … all of this started.”

Liz took a drink of orange juice. Here was the serious stuff she had mentioned last night. Or a day ago, actually. “By 'all of this', do you mean the Soulmate thing, or me going on the run?”

He kept his face impassive, but with her new, stronger sense of him, she knew she had struck a nerve. “Either one, I guess. Both.”

“What do you want to talk about?” She looked down at her plate. She could guess some of the things he was going to say, and there was no way they were going to get through this conversation without getting hurt.

Ressler sighed. “I-- I don't want to hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Yes.” She resisted the urge to rub at her scar. “We're Soulmates, after all. You pretty much _can't_ want to hurt me.”

“Liz.” Now he sounded offended and hurt, himself, which made her have to look at him. “Please tell me you know I wouldn't want to, anyway. Even if we weren't.”

“I do know that,” she acknowledged, dropping his gaze again. It hadn't been fair to imply otherwise. “But I also know that I've already hurt you. By leaving the way I did.”

Ressler was silent for almost a full minute. She could sense the tumult of his emotions, but she didn't try to pry. They needed to actually talk about this, without any shortcuts.

“You could have tried to let me help,” he said at last, his voice raw. “You didn't even try. You ran off with, with Reddington, but I would have--”

“Would you, though?” Liz cut in. “All you knew was that I'd just killed a man. The Attorney General.”

“He was part of the Cabal. I know that.”

Despite the certainty in his words, she knew he still didn't fully understand. They would have to get to that, as well. “But you didn't know back then,” she said sadly. “You didn't want to listen to any explanation. You just wanted me to come in – when you had to know that wasn't an option.”

“Okay.” He was struggling to keep his tone calm. “I'll admit that wasn't the most well thought-out idea. But you could have contacted me again after you got away, asked me to meet you somewhere safe – and I would have. I would have listened then. I would have helped you.”

The pain in his voice would have been difficult to stand even before they were Soulmates. Now it was intolerable. She reached for his hand. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “You're right that I could have done that. I just … I didn't want to drag you into this. You were already in enough danger and under enough suspicion because of me.”

He gripped her hand in his and said, “I wish you had asked me what I wanted.” Then he took a breath. “But it does help to know you were trying to keep me safe.”

“You, and the rest of the task force,” she admitted. “That's-- that's why I shot him. Connolly. He threatened all of you, each of you, and Red. He was going to shut you down and destroy you.” She could still bring to mind that panicked, trapped feeling, the hopelessness and rage that Connolly's smug little speech had produced.

Again, Ressler took a while to respond. It seemed like she had quieted some of his confusion and hurt, at least. That was a start. “I think I get it, at least a little bit more than I did,” was what he said at last. His gaze was clearer now. “But before we go any further or talk about this more, I want to tell you that … I missed you.”

She put her other hand over his. “I missed you, too, Ressler,” she said, her throat tight. “And I'm sorry for what happened, what you had to do when I ran.” She had hated being at odds with him, and knowing that she was forcing him to hunt her. The few times early on when the task force had nearly cornered Red and her had been especially painful.

He swallowed and nodded. Then he evidently decided to change the subject, sort of. “Aram and Samar send their greetings, by the way. Or they did, however long ago it was that I left to try to get to you.”

Liz smiled, but it faded quickly. She missed them, too – and Cooper. She missed the black-and-white simplicity of being in the Bureau, even when it had all started to go gray. “I hope they're doing all right. We'll have to ask Red what he knows.”

“We will.” Then the intensity of his gaze sharpened. “By the way, since I haven't even said it yet, I know we were both angry at the timing of all of this – or I definitely was, at least. But I'm not angry or disappointed in the least that we're here now, and that I get to get to know you as my Soulmate.”

She shivered slightly, and a thrill of something she would label as anticipation went through her. “Me, neither,” she said, lacing her fingers through his. “Not at all. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm looking forward to it.”

He stood up, still holding her hand, and crossed to her side of the table. “I don't know about you,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “but I'd like to get started on that process soon. Right now, even.”

He could probably feel the way her pulse was speeding up, Liz thought. She stood as well. Neither of them were back to full strength yet, but they were well enough that it didn't make sense to delay completing their full bond any longer. Not when they were both feeling like this.

Hand in hand, they went back to their room, shutting and locking the door behind them. “Not going to take the chance that Reddington decides to bother us – or anyone else,” said Ressler.

“I don't think Red would,” said Liz, thinking about how he had behaved since he learned about her and Ressler. “He's actually been – very supportive.”

Ressler smiled and shook his head. “Okay, good to know,” he said. “Still, uh, just so you know, if we don't stop talking about Reddington, this is going to get awkward very fast.”

Laughing, Liz stepped closer to him. “Point taken.”

They stopped, then, still looking into each other's eyes, and got quiet. Liz could feel a faint blush on her cheeks. If she wasn't imagining it, Ressler was blushing a bit, too. “It's kind of weird, anyway, isn't it?” she said softly. “I mean, we've been partners, friends, but we've never...”

“Yeah.” Very slowly, as if worried she might stop him, Ressler raised a hand to caress her face.

She leaned into his touch. It felt-- He felt so perfectly right, and safe, and inviting. She closed the distance between them even further. Then she laid her own hand over his heart. “What does it say?” she asked him.

His breathing hitched. Instead of answering, he leaned down and kissed her while she was looking up at him, and when she reciprocated with great enthusiasm, they both got lost in the kiss for quite some time. When they finally broke apart to breathe, Ressler rested his forehead against hers. Her hands had moved a fair amount while they kissed, but now her right hand was back over his heart again. She felt it pounding.

“Your Mark,” she reminded him, still breathless. Even feeling some of his sensations and reactions to their first kiss was overwhelming … and she knew this would only become more true the further this went.

“I know,” Ressler panted. He cupped her face in his hands for another moment, and then stepped back a bit. “How about I just show it to you?” When she agreed, he pulled off his T-shirt and let it fall to the carpet.

Liz's eyes found the dark-inked words right away. Then it took her a few seconds before she bit her lip and nodded. She could picture him easily in her mind's eye, so still in that hospital bed.

“Hey, I'm right here,” he murmured, taking her outstretched hand and laying it over the words on his skin. “I'm here, Liz.”

His heartbeat was strong and steady, if fast, under her fingers. She exhaled slowly. He was fine, despite everything that he'd been through. And now she wanted to explore the rest of him. Very much.

His eyes darkened at that thought. “Can I see yours now?” he asked, and the tone of his voice made her even more eager.

“It's only fair,” she said with a slow nod. Deliberately running her hands along his skin longer than necessary first (he gasped and shut his eyes for a moment), she pulled them away and then pulled her own shirt over her head, onto the floor.

She felt his gaze travel over her and come to rest on the Mark that was still partly covered by her bra. But he could see enough that recognition dawned in his eyes. “So just the one word,” he said.

“That's it,” she told him softly. She stepped closer again and put her hands on either side of his face. “It was enough.” This time, she was the one who initiated the kiss. They both moved toward the bed, with nothing else they needed to discuss or reveal, nothing else impeding the progress of their bond.

~~  
When he started to wake up sometime later, Ressler felt his Soulmate's gaze before he even opened his eyes. Then she ran a hand from his face to his chest, and he woke up the rest of the way very quickly. He captured her hand in his and returned her gaze. God, she was beautiful.

Liz's smile widened, and she leaned closer to kiss him once, lightly. _Hey. How are you feeling?_

Ressler blinked. He'd almost forgotten – but of course, now that they had completed their bond... _I feel pretty damn great_ , he told her, speaking into her mind the way she had spoken into his. He released her hand so he could push a lock of her hair behind her ear. _But you know that._

“I do,” she said out loud, “but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear you say it.”

“Yeah? Then what about you?” He raised his eyebrows. “Do I get to hear you say it?”

“All right. If you insist.” She grinned again, and kissed him again, for longer this time. _I'm feeling as close to perfect as possible, I think._

It was still new, the way his pleasure in a kiss or anything else between the two of them had the potential to be doubled as he felt her reactions as well. They had the option to temper it as much as they wanted – that was part of the Soulmate deal – but Ressler saw no need to lessen anything at the moment. And neither did Liz.

The two might have spent longer in bed if it weren't for how hungry they both were. After another quick shower (they kept it quick somehow, even though they took it together), they went out to the kitchen again. It was kind of astonishing to see on the wall clock that it was almost four in the afternoon. The alarm clock on their bedside table either didn't work or needed to be plugged in. Ressler made a mental note to check.

Don and Liz had just finished making sandwiches using the supplies in the fridge when Red came into the room. His greeting was accompanied by a very knowing look, but he didn't make any irritating comments. Not right away, anyway. He did tell them that there would be an organized dinner that day – which was to say, a cooked meal served at a set time. “But I know there will be plenty left over, so if you find you're not hungry after your very late lunch, or whatever you want to call this meal,” he said, gesturing at their plates, “by about seven o'clock, you can still have some later, whenever you're ready.”

“Who else is here?” Don asked, and then took a bite of his sandwich.

“Just me, Dembe, and Mr. Kaplan,” said Red, “although she said she might be late.” He looked serious for a moment, and then smiled again. “So feel free to join us if you'd like.”

The man was nearly out of the room when Don remembered something he'd wanted to ask. “Red.”

“Yes, Donald?” Red turned back around.

“At some point, we need to talk about how you got me out of the place they were holding me,” he said. “And whether that Solomon guy is still alive, because if so...”

Red's expression grew cold. “I do apologize for depriving you of the satisfaction of hunting him down, Donald,” he said. “Mr. Solomon is in my custody. I expect he'll be a difficult nut to crack – but nearly anything is possible given enough time and effort.”

Ressler nodded. Then he frowned. “He told me he had a Soulmate.” Even with all the man had done to him, Ressler hated the idea of subjecting Solomon's Soulmate to the agony of him being tortured. He could feel Liz's agreement.

“If he ever did, he doesn't any longer,” said Red. “He has no Soul Mark.”

“All right.” Ressler let out his breath. “That's good.”

They ended up eating dinner with the rest of the house's occupants that evening – and neither of them had much trouble finding room for the delicious beef and vegetable stew with fresh rolls. In fact, Don ended up eating so much that his stomach did ache later. But he thought it might have been worth it, anyway.

During the meal, Liz asked Red what he knew about Samar, Aram, and Cooper.

“All three of them are physically fine, according to my latest intel,” he told them. “Harold is still under some suspicion, unfortunately, because of the circumstances of his dismissal from the Bureau. But he's safe, of that I'm sure.”

Ressler felt Liz's guilt at these latter comments. She blamed herself completely for what had happened to Cooper. He changed the subject a bit. “How much do they all know about...?”

“About you and Lizzie?” Red paused to pass the rolls to Dembe, who thanked him. “Very little, beyond what they observed before you left. The task force was alerted to my presence and rumors of Lizzie's, as well, when we took you from the place the Cabal had you, Donald. As far as my people are aware, though, there's no footage of you two anywhere.”

“Not that that means they don't know we're Soulmates,” Liz put in, looking at Ressler with a worried frown. “I'm sure the people who kidnapped you didn't exactly keep it to themselves.”

Ressler shook his head. “No, I doubt they did. They were watching me before I even left DC.”

“Yes, there's little doubt that your Soulmate status is no longer a secret in most relevant quarters,” Red said, “but it also seems that Aram and Samar aren't the only Soulmate pair who are sympathetic to your plight.”

Ressler stared at him. This, he had not been expecting to hear. “What?”

Reddington smiled and said, “From what I've been told, your former boss AG Wright and her Soulmate refuse to label Donald Ressler a fugitive, or even a suspect in aiding and abetting a fugitive, since all evidence points to his disappearance being in direct response to the development of his Soulmate bond with his former partner.”

“Huh.” Don blinked. It was too bad that sympathy wouldn't extend to offering any kind of clemency to Liz, though, he guessed.

_It wouldn't make any sense if it did_ , she said to him, looking away. _I killed Connolly and ran before we were Soulmates, after all._

“This is, of course, a risky position for them to hold,” Red went on, “since the Cabal will not be pleased. But I think the fact that the current Attorney General doesn't label you a criminal has the potential to be useful for us all.”

Liz looked thoughtful. “It could be.”

“But regardless, we don't have to worry about that at the moment,” said Mr. Kaplan, speaking up for the first time with a severe look at Reddington. “Or at least, these two don't. They need to concentrate on getting well for now.”

"Of course you're right," said Red. "This is a time for you two to rest."

~~


	7. Chapter 7

~~  
Over the next week, Don and Liz had no other responsibilities besides healing, resting, and recovering together. Don was pleased to observe Liz put on a healthy amount of weight, as she was pleased to see him approach his normal weight, too. They also both spent time in the exercise room that was available to them at this house. Their Soul Sickness had, oddly enough, meant a loss of muscle and physical fitness, in addition to everything else. Of course that wasn't the only type of exercise they engaged in, either. Throughout the whole time, it was sheer joy to be with Liz – and a joy to know she felt the same about him. It was also wonderful to have time simply to talk with her, on just about any topic.

This period of relaxation had to come to an end sometime, Don supposed. Still, it was a rude awakening for it to end with being jolted out of sleep early one morning by a sharp knock on the door. “Lizzie, Donald, we have to go,” came Red's voice, urgent and carrying. “Be ready in five minutes. I'll explain once we're on the road.”

Liz shifted and sighed, extricating herself from Don's embrace with reluctance. “Okay,” she called.

Don rolled over and looked at the clock. It was five twenty. He would have grumbled at this, but the significance of Red's announcement had started to penetrate his groggy mind. Someone had to have found them – or be close to finding them.

_If you grab our go bags, I'm going to run to the bathroom first_ , Liz said. She turned on the lamp and got out of bed.

Ressler blinked and sat up. _Yeah, okay_ , he said. She had to be more used to these hurried departures than he was, but even so, he refused to be the one who put them in danger by moving too slowly.

Thankfully, although he still didn't feel totally awake in five minutes, he had succeeded in throwing on some clothes, washing his face, and getting their go bags ready in time. He and Liz joined Red out in front of the house. Dembe was there as well – though he was not, surprisingly enough, the one behind the wheel of the nondescript gray sedan idling in the driveway. Don didn't recognize the driver.

“Good, you're ready,” said Reddington with a nod. “Once we get in, I'll tell you where we're going and why.”

Liz, Don, and Dembe followed Red into the car. Dembe sat up front, and Liz sat between Red and Ressler. “Okay, so who found us?” she asked with a yawn.

“Another of the Director's attack dogs is on our trail,” was his less than helpful response. “The perimeter was breached fifteen minutes ago.”

“So why didn't you wake us up fifteen minutes ago?” Ressler asked. He was aware he sounded angry, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was too damn early – and besides, it was a legitimate concern.

“If the breach had been an attack, of course I would have,” Red replied calmly. “It appears have been only a scouting mission. However, since the scout may have observed some of the guards, I thought it was prudent for us to move on.”

That did make sense, Ressler thought. “And how do we know it's this guy the Director sent?”

“That, I will admit, is an educated guess,” Red said, “based on chatter we've been picking up.”

Liz asked for other details about this new enemy, but Red was fairly reticent. All he told them was that his name was Stefan Pearce, and that he was known to be relentless.

After they had driven maybe half an hour, the car pulled over to the side of the road. There wasn't anything distinguishable about this section of shoulder, except the empty pickup truck parked there.

“This will just take a moment,” Reddington said. Then he and Dembe got out of the car.

“Wait. Dembe, you're leaving again?” Liz called, cracking the open the door so the sound wouldn't be muffled. Both men turned.

“I'll rejoin you soon, if all goes well,” said Dembe with a small smile. He looked at each of them. “Be safe and well until then.”

“You, too,” replied Liz, and Don nodded to the man.

Red embraced Dembe, spoke to him quietly, and then watched as he got into the pickup. As soon as he had started to drive away, Red got back into their car.

“So how long are we going to be driving from here?” Ressler asked.

“We'll change vehicles in about two hours,” he replied. “Fortunately, it appears that we're only running from the Cabal at this point, and not the Bureau as well.”

“Really?” Liz raised an eyebrow. “I would've thought they'd want to use the Bureau like they have in the past, if they know we're back in the States.” She shot Ressler an apologetic look. He gave her a shrug. It wasn't like that was news to him.

“Yes, that would seem logical,” Red agreed, “but perhaps AG Wright's decision about Donald's status has taken off some of the pressure from the FBI's perspective. And she's not one to be swayed easily.”

That was a fact. It really was-- comforting might not be the right word, but it was a good thing that they had Ressler's former boss on their side, or at least in a position to understand his motivations.

“Since we have some time ahead of us,” Reddington went on a moment later, “I was wondering whether you two would mind if I asked you a few questions about your Soulmate bond.” At Ressler's look, he smiled indulgently and added, “Nothing indelicate, I assure you.”

Ressler looked at Liz. She shrugged very slightly and said, _I guess it depends on what he wants to know, doesn't it?_

_I guess_ , Ressler repeated. It was true as she was implying, that they didn't have to answer if they didn't like the question.

“Fine,” said Liz to Red. “But just because you ask doesn't mean we'll answer.”

“Of course,” Red agreed easily. “Let me start by asking if you both remember that you were able to see through each other's eyes, and communicate in some fashion, toward the end of your separation.”

Don blinked and met his Soulmate's gaze again. He'd forgotten that – and so had she based on her thoughts. “I do remember now,” he said slowly. She had found him first. And then they had...

“In that case,” Red went on, “may I ask if you know how rare that is, especially for a Soulmate pair of your status at that time?” His expression was merely interested, but there was a hint of something else in his voice. Wistfulness, maybe. It struck Don suddenly and forcefully that he and Liz had been sharing space for a week now with a man bereft of his own Soulmate.

Liz raised her eyebrows and let him know she wasn't impressed with how long it had taken him to think of that. _I know we've been otherwise occupied, but come on. You used to be Raymond Reddington's case agent._ Meanwhile, she was telling Red that for her part, she hadn't known it was possible at all. “I thought all of that had to wait until after Soulmates were fully bonded.”

“That's what I thought, too,” Don put in. _Give me a break, all right?_ he said to Liz, but without much heat. It really was something that should have occurred to him at least once.

“And that's true, in the vast majority of cases,” Red said with a nod. “The fact that you two were able to do these things is intriguing. It makes me wonder if there are other aspects of your bond that are-- 'unique' might be too strong of a word, but certainly special.”

Liz gripped Ressler's hand. He could feel her confusion, and he shared it. “What kinds of other aspects?”

“I can't say for sure without further observation,” he answered. “But perhaps your telepathic range for each other would be greater than usual. Things of that sort.”

“Okay.” Liz looked at Ressler again. He agreed with her thought – that the idea of being far enough apart to test that hypothesis was not in the least attractive.

“But besides that speculation,” Red continued, “there's the simple fact that this illustrates the strength and depth of your connection to each other.” The wistful tone was back, more clearly now, as he regarded them both. “You'll be a formidable team.”

At that, Ressler had to smile broadly. “Can't argue with that.” He and Liz had been great as partners before – and now there was no way they wouldn't be even better. Whether or not their Soulmate bond gave them extra abilities.

_Damn straight_ , said Liz, smiling back at him.

~~  
It was five days since they'd made it out of the country – though not very far yet. The Cabal, furious at the failure of their perfect trap, had stepped up their efforts to prevent Reddington from sneaking a flight out. Red told them that, while he was sure their enemies hadn't truly sealed off all these avenues of escape, he felt it was wise to avoid air travel for a while.

That was how they ended up in an unassuming-looking house in the suburbs – or farmland, more accurately – outside of Vancouver, British Columbia. They needed to keep a low profile, obviously. However, neither Liz nor Ressler wanted to remain inactive. They weren't just barely recovered from severe Soul Sickness, like they had been at the Pennsylvania house; they were healthy and, Liz thought, both more than ready to fight back against the ones who had done this to them.

“Yes, I understand that,” said Red, when Liz brought this up at breakfast the morning after they arrived. “And I have a suggestion, if you two are willing to receive it from me.”

“Sure,” said Ressler. He was restless this morning, Liz could see. Thankfully he had slept just fine last night, though. She had barely moved, as well, exhausted from the days of traveling. They were learning that it was very difficult to exercise any control over their bond while they were asleep or trying to get there. Thus, any insomnia – or even nightmares – tended to affect both of them equally.

Red's idea was one Liz almost wished she and Ressler had thought of for themselves. It was simple but had the potential to be very powerful.

“Everyone who has even a shred of humanity and fellow-feeling agrees that forcible separation of Soulmates – especially long-term – is beyond heinous,” he began. “But this is what Mr. Solomon did to you two, under the orders of the Cabal although he's cruel enough to have made this decision himself. I've obtained useful intel, and located some rather damning and heart-wrenching video surveillance footage, thanks to what the man has told me. So.” He took a breath. “If you two are willing to make use of an experience that I'm sure you'd rather never dwell on again, much less expose to public view, then we could gather the names I've learned of key players in the Cabal, work to tie them to Solomon and what he did, and then show the world what these people are truly like.”

His audience sat at the table in stunned silence for a few seconds after this speech. Then Ressler cleared his throat. “Well. If that surveillance footage is what I think it is, it's not like seeing it will be worse than living it was.”

“For you, yes,” Liz interjected. She reached for his hand. “It's not going to be easy for me, though.”

As Ressler gave her an apologetic and understanding look, Red said, “Yes, that's true. And Donald will no doubt have difficulty seeing the few images of you, Lizzie, that exist from during your Soul Sickness.”

“What images?” asked Liz, surprised.

“Just a few still shots from our own surveillance camera outside the place we were staying before we found Donald. From when we moved you,” he explained. He looked down for a moment, then met her eyes. “I'm afraid most of it has already been deleted.”

Liz nodded, finding it difficult to speak for a few moments. Even in her latest, unclear memories from the Soul Sickness, she knew Red had been there, at her bedside, as often as he could be. She knew it had hurt him to watch her suffer, but he hadn't let her be alone. “It's all right,” she told him. “Ressler's the one who's innocent, anyway. So his part of the story will be the most convincing.”

Ressler wasn't happy with this summation (Red probably wasn't, either), but he didn't protest out loud.

The two of them got to work after breakfast. Red had provided the intel he had on various figures in the Cabal, and then he said farewell. “I'll be out most of the day, probably. But I'm reachable by phone – and the guards can contact me as well, too, should that be necessary.”

“Be safe,” Liz said, taking his hand for a moment.

Red smiled and nodded, squeezing her hand lightly. “I will.”

Once Red had left (she felt her Soulmate's lingering questions about her and Red, but he didn't pry), the two of them decided to spread out all the pieces of the puzzle they had on the floor around them. They worked in silence for a while. Liz was sure many of the crucial pieces were here in front of them; they just had to figure out how to fit this information together.

“Ressler,” she said, “can you pass me that file about the embassy attack in Yemen?”

“Yeah, just a second.” He scanned the various items around him, and then found it. As he handed it to her, he smiled a little and said, “You know, you can call me by my first name. If you want.”

Liz blinked, and then returned the smile. “I guess you're right. I'm just so used to calling you Ressler.”

“And that's fine,” he said. He covered her hand with his, where she had it resting on the file in her lap. “But I'm just saying, if you wanted to try out 'Don', I'd also be fine with that.”

She tried it out mentally first. _I'll see how it feels … Don._

He chuckled. “Good.”

Just as she was about to follow up on this, they were interrupted by the sound of her cell phone ringing. Liz took it out of her pocket and stared at it. “It's not Red. I don't-- Almost no one has this number.”

Ressler was serious right away. “I guess we should see who it is.”

She accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Liz,” said a voice she had definitely not been expecting, “thank God. I wasn't sure I was going to reach you.”

Liz stood up, scattering papers, and stepped out of their work space quickly. “Tom? What the hell?”

Her Soulmate's immediate anger was obvious in her mind, and in his expression, as he followed her. But Tom was answering, so she tried to focus on his words.

“Yeah, it's me. I've been trying to find you since-- well, since you ran, I guess.”

“Why?” she asked. “What do you want? I thought you'd be off somewhere on your boat.” She bit her lip after she said these words; that was something else she and Ressler would have to talk about.

His response sounded incredulous. “What do I want? Liz, you--” He sighed. “Look, I know you're with Reddington. But I can help. I've been doing some digging of my own.”

Liz put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. His motives were obvious, and to be fair, she hadn't exactly discouraged him last time they interacted. Which seemed like years ago. On the other hand, knowing him, he might actually have useful information. “You've found something that we could use to damage or discredit the Cabal?”

_Liz, no._ Ressler took a few steps so that he was standing in front of her, and shook his head. _There's no way we can trust him!_

Liz frowned at him as she tried to concentrate on her ex-husband's voice while also hearing Ressler's voice in her mind. “Sorry, could you-- could you say that again?”

“Is someone else there with you? Is it Reddington?”

“Yes, there's someone, and no, it's not Reddington,” Liz replied. “What information do you have, Tom?”

He sighed again. “I want to give it to you in person. I think it'll be safer that way.”

At that, Ressler couldn't hold back any longer. “No way! No way in hell, Liz.”

“Who's that with you?” the man on the other end of the line asked. He didn't sound overly concerned.

Liz took a breath. Well, she supposed it was time to see how altruistic Tom's motives really were. His response here would tell her a lot. “My Soulmate.”

There was silence on the line for a full five seconds. “Your Soulmate.” His voice was flat. “When did this happen?”

“I don't really see how that's any of your business,” she replied, keeping herself calm with effort as Ressler's irritation and anger grew alongside hers.

“So does that mean you're not going to tell me who it is, either?” he asked. Then there was a sharp intake of breath. “Don't tell me _Reddington_ \--”

“God, no!” she yelped, torn between amusement and consternation. She lowered her voice, as another thought occurred to her, and said, “Besides, don't you tell me that you didn't know about Red's past. He's already had a Soulmate.”

“Right.” Tom sounded exceedingly relieved. “Yeah, of course. I did know that.” He paused. “You're not going to tell me who, then?”

Liz took a moment to try to think. She met Ressler's eyes again. _He could actually have something useful for us. It's not like he doesn't have the know-how to get it._

With a grimace, Ressler conceded this point. _But if we're really going to listen to him, we aren't bringing him here_ , he stated. _And we're not even going to try to do this without Reddington hearing about it first._

That was true. Even if they tried to hide it from Red, there would be very little hope of succeeding.

“Liz? Are you still there?” Tom asked. For the first time, he seemed uncertain.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “All right. If you really, honestly have some information that you think would be helpful for me, and Red, and Don, then we can all meet together somewhere. But I'll need to discuss what place would be best with Red.”

He wasn't pleased. “Red isn't exactly my biggest fan, in case you'd forgotten,” he said. “I was hoping to talk to you. No one else.”

“Don and I can probably persuade him that it's worth it to meet with you,” Liz replied. “We might even get him to back off a little, while we talk. But there's no way trying to do this without his approval is going to work with our current situation.”

“Fine. You can-- Wait a minute. Don?” Tom's voice rose, just a bit. “As in, Donald Ressler, your uptight FBI partner?”

Liz tried her best not to smile when she glanced at Ressler after that comment, but her lips twitched anyway. _You've been called a lot worse_ , she told him.

_I'd like to call_ him _a few things_ , was his rejoinder, but he didn't rise to Tom's bait. _Go ahead and tell him it's me._

“Yes. That Don.” Liz didn't let Tom respond before going on, “So, now that you have that highly relevant piece of information, how can I contact you once we've talked to Reddington?”

Tom was silent for another several seconds. “You can call me at this number,” he said at last, almost resigned. “I promise it'll be worth your time.”

For a brief moment, Liz felt sorry for the other man. She knew he thought he felt something genuine for her, at least, and maybe he had even hoped that he might still become her Soulmate. Although after two years of marriage without such a development... “All right.”

“Hey, I'm glad you're okay.”

She took a deep breath. “Thanks.” And then she hung up the phone.

When she turned to look at her Soulmate again, she noted that he had clamped down – a little – on his emotions and thoughts. His expression was fairly neutral as well as he said, “So. You're sure Tom isn't just going to string us along if we do this?”

“Not completely,” she admitted. She looked down. “But at least now he knows there's no chance I want to see him for anything but the intel he might help us find.”

“Yeah.” Don was, at least, as utterly certain of her feelings for him as he had to be. As she was about his. There was no room for that kind of doubt in a Soulmate bond. He went on, “Did you want to tell me something about that boat you mentioned to him?”

“I went to Tom for help not too long after I escaped from the Post Office,” she said. She might as well get this over with, she figured. “Red was – being his usual infuriating, secretive self, or so I thought. Refusing to tell me what I thought I needed to know about my parents, my mother in particular. So I went to Tom.”

“Okay.” He watched her calmly.

“I think he really did try to help, but Red had made it so that anyone either of us could think of to talk to about my mother didn't dare talk to me.” She could remember her mounting frustration, fear, and anger. “And then Andropov got shot in front of us, but not before we found the evidence that proved that Cooper was never sick, on a USB stick in Andropov's apartment.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I didn't know about what was on there at first. We just had to get out of there. Tom took me to his boat.”

Don nodded. “And I'm guessing you did something on that boat that you'd rather not talk about.”

“I was scared, and I felt like-- like I didn't have anyone else to turn to. And I could pretend that I knew Tom – Jacob, I should say. That he knew me. And he does care about me, in whatever way is possible for him.” She sighed. “I also pretended that by being with him, I could feel something good. Like what I used to think we had.” 

He was still keeping his thoughts and emotions in check – and keeping them from her, for the most part. Liz took his hand. “Will you talk to me, please?” she asked quietly. “It's not going to bother me if you're mad. Or hell, even if you're disappointed in me. I know it was a mistake. I knew that long before I knew you were my Soulmate.”

“Liz,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not--” Then he stopped, and started again. She could feel him relaxing his mental barriers. “Okay, you can tell that I am mad. But I'm not disappointed in you. What I'm mostly angry about is the way Tom – or whatever the hell his name is – has been taking advantage of you, the whole time you've known him. I don't want to see that keep happening.”

Liz opened her mouth to protest that characterization of Tom – but then shut it again. Just because he himself wouldn't see it all that way didn't mean she had to defend him. She didn't owe him anything. “Well,” she said instead, “at least, even with all his lies and manipulations, there's no way he would try to insert himself in my life anymore now that he knows I have a Soulmate. The fact that he has the ability to care about me at all ensures that.”

“And just in case you're wrong about that – which I'm not saying you are – you don't have to deal with him alone anymore,” Ressler said. He tugged her in close to his side. “Actually, let me rephrase that: you aren't going to deal with him alone anymore.”

“Oh, so you're just going to decide that for me?” She raised an eyebrow challengingly, even as she leaned into him. “That sounds awfully high-handed. Presumptuous, even.”

He scoffed, stroking his right hand down her right arm. “Oh, please, Keen. Like I'd ever waste time trying to tell you what to do. I'm just telling you what _I'm_ doing.”

“Excuse me?” She pulled away just enough to look at him with mock indignation. “Did you just call me stubborn? That's rich, coming from you.” She prodded him in the chest with one finger.

Ressler pushed her hand away, and then didn't let it go. “Stubborn?” He frowned in feigned confusion. “I thought I was just uptight.”

Laughing, Liz leaned the rest of the way in to kiss him. _You're a talented man_ , she told him. _I'm sure you can be both at the same time._

He laughed, too, as he deepened the kiss. _I'd show you just how talented I am_ , he said, positioning his hands on her body in such a way that she gasped, _but we're supposed to be working right now._

That was true. _Damn._ She drew back a few seconds later. They were both breathing hard. It took them a while to get to the point where they felt like they could sit back down to look at the files and information some more.

They worked in near silence for a while after that. Liz felt like they were making some good progress, despite the fact that she found her thoughts wandering to the events surrounding Tom's boat more than once. Then she let out a cry of dismay.

“What?” He was about to ask if she had found something, until he followed her train of thought a little bit. His eyes widened. “Liz! What's wrong?”

Liz covered her face with her hands. Somehow, over the past several weeks and with all the time they had conversed together, she had never talked to Don about the reason Red hadn't wanted her to know about her parents. Sure, she'd had the occasional nightmare that touched on that night in her memory, but nothing more explicit than flashes of fire and smoke, and a gun going off. That meant he still didn't know.

“Know what?” His voice was gentle, but insistent. There was the sound of rustling papers, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders. “Liz. Talk to me.”

She couldn't bear to tell him. Clearly, she had still been doing her best not to even think about it for herself. So instead, she just let him see the whole memory – as whole as it was, anyway.

“My God.” He took his hands away from her shoulders, and for a moment she was terrified he was leaving. But he removed her own hands from her face instead, and pulled her to him again. “Reddington tried to keep you from remembering that somehow?”

Clinging to him, she nodded. “I--” Her voice broke. No, she was too upset to speak out loud. She was trembling, too. _I never asked how, exactly. But I think it was something like the reverse of what Braxton did to me._

“When you were just a little girl?” Now he sounded furious.

_He was trying to protect me_ , she said, focusing as best she could on deep, regular breaths. And the feel of her Soulmate, of being in his arms. _He did protect me, until the day I shot Connolly, and then I remembered. I remembered what I did._

Ressler swore. Then he just held her, until her shaking subsided. “I'm sorry that happened to you, Liz,” he said. “I'm so sorry.”

“Don't you mean you're sorry to hear what I did?” she said, and although her voice shook, it didn't break this time. She couldn't keep trying to avoid facing this. “Ressler, I killed my own _father._ ”

“To stop him from hurting your mother,” he said. “Right? And you weren't trying to kill him – just to make it stop.”

She sighed.

“So no, I don't think that this terrible thing was something you did, that you sought to make happen,” he went on. “It was something that never should have been possible for you to experience. God, Liz, you were a child!”

Sniffing, Liz buried her face in his chest for a while longer. Then she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “I-- I wish I had other memories of them.”

Ressler stood up and brought her the tissue box from the dining room table. “Yeah,” he said.

~  
Not long after this latest interruption, it was time for lunch. The two of them summarized what they had learned, glad to know that connections between key players were being made.

“And you're okay with-- with showing the world what you had to go through?” she asked him, looking down at her chicken salad.

“What we both had to go through,” he corrected. “Even if it's mostly me they see. And yeah, I think I am. Everyone thinks they know how bad prolonged Soul Sickness would be, but they really have no idea. How could they? So if we can prove that this is the kind of people who are manipulating the public from the shadows, and expose them for who and what they are, people will have to listen.”

“No, I agree with all of that, definitely,” she said. “I just...” She met his gaze, and laughed softly. “I guess there are worse things to be known as than the guy who almost died from Soul Sickness, on his way to meet up with his fugitive Soulmate.”

Don looked confused for a second. “Liz, are you worried that-- what, that people aren't going to know the whole story? Who I really am?”

It sounded kind of silly, when he said it like that. “I know that's what happens with any figure in the public eye. I just don't... When this is all over,” she said, “I want you to be able to have a sort of normal life, at least. And in the meantime, you being the, well, spokesman I guess for all of this, it makes you more of a target for the Cabal.”

“Liz.” He put down his fork and took her hand. “I want a life with you. I want you to be cleared of the false charges against you, and for us to be safe. This is what it seems like it'll take.”

She smiled, feeling teary all of a sudden. “All right,” she whispered. “You know I want a life with you, too, and that I'll fight for it.” _Just as long as we both make it until then._

“Together, I think we have a good chance.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Finally got this chapter up. So sorry for the long wait! Thanks to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos.
> 
> I think this makes a decent ending point for this particular story ... but I'd love to hear what you all think, and with the way season 3 seems to be going, I'm not ruling out a sequel.


End file.
